Redemption and Revenge
by souldancer13
Summary: Love-whether in friendship or romance-will prevail through the darkest Blight. FemNoble,FemDwarfNoble,MaleDwarfCasteless, MaleCityElf,MaleHumanMage, MaleDalishElf
1. Chapter 1

The Chantry teaches us that it is the hubris of men which brought the dark spawn into our world. The mages, the Archons of the Tevintir Empire sought to usurp heaven, but instead they destroyed it. They were cast out, twisted and cursed by their own corruption. They returned as monsters, the first of the darkspawn. They became a Blight upon the lands unstoppable and relentless. The dwarven kingdoms were the first to fall and from the Deep Roads the darkspawn drove at us again and again until finally we neared annihilation. Until the Grey Wardens came. Men and women from every race, warriors and mages, barbarians and Kings and the Grey Wardens sacrificed everything to stem the tide of darkness, and prevailed. It has been four centuries since that victory and we have kept our vigil. We have watched and waited for the darkspawn to return. But those who once called us heroes have forgotten. We are few now, and our warnings have been ignored for too long. It may even be too late, for I have seen what lies on the horizon. Maker help us all.

Duncan looked behind him, down into the valley below the Frostback Mountains. Like all Grey Wardens before him, he knew the end of a Blight never signaled the end of the darkspawn—indeed, the dwarves living in Orzammar beneath this very mountain lived with the monsters on their doorstep daily. And he had the nerve to ask for their assistance the few times they received a break, when a Blight broke out and the darkspawn moved to the surface. At least, that's what he had often pondered as he had been making his way to one of the last great dwarven cities. There had not been a Blight in his lifetime. The Grey Wardens had just recently returned to Ferelden, and were very short in number. Just like the darkspawn, like an archdemon to take advantage of the infant order. He sighed as he entered the market set up by the surface dwarves and those looking to trade with the increasingly insular dwarves. Luckily, Grey Wardens were admired by the dwarves, and many people of Ferelden—he would have no trouble getting in. But he was more concerned about getting recruits. While there were many talented warriors, rogues and mages in Ferelden, he wondered just how many of them had the strength of will, body, and mind to become a Grey Warden. Even harder a task, he thought as he approached the gate of Orzammar, was getting them to leave, or getting their elder's permission without causing a fuss. The last thing the realm needed (in addition to few Grey Wardens) as a Blight approached was to be divided….

Beneath the peak, in what the dwarves called 'Dust Town' the casteless of dwarven society eked out a living off the charity of the merchant, noble, and warrior castes, or through the vast black market dealings. They were not allowed to hold jobs, weapons or trade with others; the casteless included those on the surface, but at least surface dwarves were at the mercy of human society, and not the rigid ice of their own people. Most of the black market operations were run by others who actually held place in society, but the casteless made up the majority of their workers. Wylan and his younger sister Rica, were two such slaves to a black hearted crime lord named Beraht.

"I can't keep gambling on you forever precious," the pale merchant class lout purred. He wore fine brown chainmail, and had a kempt brown beard. "You have a cute face, something to drive the men wild, but I'm not seeing a return on my investment."

Rica, a slender dwarf with done up red hair, bit her cherry lips and cast her eyes downward. "Please, Beraht. Can we not do this in front of my brother?"

"Why not?" He grumbled, casting his autumn eyes at Wylan. "He knows the slope of the land, don't you boy?"  
"Didn't I tell you not to talk to my sister like that?" Wylan, a blonde headed dwarf with light blue eyes, snapped. The solidly built dwarf was strapping the last buckle on his shoddy leather armor.

"You've told me a lot of things, not one of which meant more than a fart in the middens." He snorted. "Before me your sister was just another duster. Now check her out! Braids down to here, gold-capped teeth. She can recite elf-poetry and play the string-harp. Every man's dream!" He turned back to Rica—her make-up caked face more red than usual. "All she's gotta do is find a lord, squeeze out some kid who looks like him, and we're all living the easy life in the Diamond Quarter."

Rica scooted closer to her brother. "Please don't get involved. You know that never goes well." She whispered softly.

"I don't like to see him treating you that way." He replied in kind.

"I'll treat her however I like, as long as you both eat off my plate." The lord snapped, catching Wylan's words. "You keep your head down and say "Aye" to any job I decide is low enough for scum like you. In return I put out coin so you can doll yourself up and get a bellyful of some nobleman's brat. Then you both go free. And I get to join the family and be called, "my lord," for the rest of the little prince's life."

Wylan rolled his eyes. "And her son'll call you uncle and come visit on name-days?"

Beraht glared at him. "That's what everyone likes—a casteless with a big mouth. But I didn't come for the joy of your company. I've been looking at my investments, and this one hasn't borne much gold. He began to walk away. "I'm giving you another week, precious. If you haven't found a patron, you're back to sweeping streets."

Rica stuttered. "I…I didn't want to say anything. The last client I saw last week…he…wants to see me again. It's nothing definite, but he…he said he wanted to see me again."

Wylan grabbed his sister's shoulder. "See, she's found someone. I told you we'd deliver."

"Excuse me if I don't start knitting booties. Until I do you're the one who's going to keep paying her debts with your service to the carta."  
"What do you need me to do?" Wylan sighed.

"Your buddy Leske's waiting outside. He knows what I'll need from you today." He glared over at Wylan one last time. "Don't even think about bungling this job. Your whole family's on loose sand with me right now. And I know you don't have anywhere else to turn." The merchant swaggered out of the hovel of Wylan's house.

Rica sighed and sat down on the best chair in the dusty house. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"You don't have to hide anything from me." Wylan said, turning back to his sister.

She smiled sadly. "I know. You've always been a good brother, always tried to protect me." She sighed. "I should have told you. Beraht's been warning me ever since two of his other girls found patrons at Lord Harrowmont's reception. They've been getting gifts already. Lord Rousten gave Elsye a surface-silk gown and she's not even pregnant. Beraht's getting impatient."

Wylan clenched his jaw. "I just wish we didn't have to kiss up to that cave tick."

Rica put her hand on his shoulder. "You know the other options. Cleaning middens…begging…going to the surface." She shook her head. "No, unless you find a way to save us all from darkspawn and become a paragon, we're pretty much on Beraht's leash for life."

Her brother ground his teeth. They had had similar conversations before, and they all ended the same. The dwarves iron clad caste system was doing no one any favors. There were, in order of importance, nobles, warriors, smiths, merchants, commoners, and the casteless, which included the dwarves which had gone to the surface. Males inherited their caste from their fathers, daughters from their mothers. The only way to move up was to have a noble's child, or become a paragon, a hero. Wylan knew he could beat most soldiers in fair combat, but he would never be given the chance. It was sheer folly for him to not be allowed to fight even just the darkspawn. Orzammar needed all the soldiers it could get anyway—it seemed the darkspawn crept closer and closer every year. Only Orzammar and Kal Sharok were left of the original twelve thaigs, and it seemed Orzammar's grip was slipping. King Aeducan had even reached out to the surfacers, humans, before going to the casteless. All to save the status of the nobles…they made plenty of excuses of course. That casteless soldiers were inept, more danger to each other than to darkspawn, that it was an insult to the smith to let them touch a fine-made weapon. From all the combat he'd managed to sneak a glance at during Provings, he could lead a troop just as easily as any of them.

Rica spoke quietly, "I heard there's Grey Wardens in the city," She added quickly. "Recruiting…" Shaking her head and sighed. "But we don't have time for this now. Leske must be waiting and Beraht won't like it if I'm late for my appointment."

Wylan hugged his sister. "Beraht expects too much from you."

Rica shook her head. "You know how desperate the nobles are for more children. They can barely field enough soldiers to hold the walls against the darkspawn. If I could...give one of them a son, the whole house would celebrate. " Both of them knew the lucky consequences of such an event. The family would be raised up to noble caste to join the family. It's what Beraht had been betting on ever since he took Rica in as a young teen, why he paid for her clothes, her voice lessons. The greedy bastard just wanted to share the reward.  
"So can you tell me more about this interested noble?"

She blushed, "Yes. That is, I hope. He certainly seems…charming." She giggled—an emotion so rare on her face. "He treats me like a real lady, not just someone to tumble and forget."

"Who is he?"

"I—I don't want to say, in case I'm wrong. It just seems too mad to think of one of the most important men in Orzammar with…someone like me." She tossed her head. "Anyway, time is rusting and I need to get dressed. These fashions will be the death of me—a hundred buttons on each sleeve!" She smiled, forced, and walked towards the back of the hovel.

Wylan sighed and walked into the other room. His mother sat at the shoddy table—he could smell the alcohol from here. Since his father died, it seemed Mother had found drink easier than life. She was a harsh woman, just like the environment her children had grown up in, like she had grown up in. He didn't bother to try to talk to her, which he patted himself on the back for as he noticed the glare she was giving him as he quickly slipped out the door.

The Dust Town was aptly named; luckily Wylan was used to the dust in his lungs. Leske, a dark skinned dwarf with a large smile and equally large braids leaned against the nearest hovel. The fellow carta member was the closest thing Wylan had to a friend. "About sodding time," Leske chuckled. "I was starting to think I'd have to bust in and get an eyeful of that spicy sister of yours. Ga-row!"

Wylan rolled his eyes. "Haven't I told you never to talk about my sister that way?"

Leske's smile didn't face and he shrugged. "But no hot-blooded dwarf can help himself. Those perfect lips, just made to be screaming my name…you must have had a few naughty thoughts yourself, huh?" He grinned. "What do you say?"

"That I might have to feed you your spleen…she's my sister Leske!"

Leske's rolling laugh echoed. "At least I'd have something to eat. But as much as I'd love to keep chatting, we'd better get down to business."

The two began walking away from the hovels, towards the gate to the market district. "So what's the story this time?" Wylan asked with a sigh. He hated the dirty work Beraht made him do—he was not cut of the right stone to be an assassin.

"Boss says we're out for a search and discipline. One of his smugglers is holding out on him. Name's Oskias. Some surface. Beraht got word that he's been selling shipments topside that would never make it to Beraht's ears down here. He wants us to find the rotter and see what goods he's holding back."

They passed a guard, but all the authority figures here in Dust City were paid off. "Anything specific we're looking for?"  
Leske shrugged. "You know, hold, lyrium, spices…Anything that Beraht might cut someone's head off to get."

The usual, Wylan thought with a mental sigh. "I hate just killing people like this…"

"We're not _just_ killing him." Leske started dryly. "First we take back anything he stole and then we kill him." He elbowed Wylan as the other sighed—the argument between the two was always the same. "You can feel bad later; let's just get this over with."

They walked easily through the gates to the merchant quarter. Casteless didn't have rights, but as long as they didn't try to go anywhere special, like the Proving Arena, no one asked questions. The Merchant Quarter was the most breath-taking site to most visitors, or so Wylan heard. The merchant shops and stalls lined a cavern glittering with fool's gold in the walls. A bridge crossed the chasm to the proving, which split the area in half. To the west was the Diamond quarter, where the nobles lived, and behind them Dust Town. They walked along the street to the tavern, the Tapster, the best place in Orzammar for information, or to hide out, as they both knew all too well. The smoky building was built into the side of the mountain, and loud as usual as the two stepped inside. A man they didn't recognize sat at a corner table—the bar tender confirmed him as their target. Wylan sat down slowly in the seat across from the pale dwarf while Leske slipped beside him.

"Hey, I was saving that seat!" Oskias snapped.

"That's real thoughtful, Oskias." Leske said smoothly. He was good at the soft, veiled threats. Wylan liked to leave the talking to him in these situations; that just mean Leske left the decisions to Wylan. "Its tiring work looking for you."

The mouse haired man twitched. "H-how do you know my name."

"We're here to stop you from making a huge mistake." Wylan said flatly.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Oskias muttered. "You probably have the wrong Oskias, see. I just got here this morning. I'm usually on the surface and…"

"So you're not the turncoat, two-faced swindling duster Beraht told us about?" Leske quipped.

Oskias shrunk into his chair. "I never did anything. Beraht's got no reason to send you after me!"

"If you did nothing wrong, you've got nothing to fear, right?" Wylan said, keeping his tone level, as before.

"I just want to make sure nobody…uh…does anything to hasty." Oskias muttered.

"Just empty your bags. Beraht wants to see what you're hiding." Wylan just removed his emotion from the situation—or tried to anyway.

"Look," Oskias started, fidgeting and getting shifty eyed. "I-I've always been loyal to Beraht. He's always been good to my family; I-I know how much I owe him."

"Then why have you been holding out on him?"

"I haven't…I-I wouldn't"

"You really think that's going to convince me?"

"I do have some lyrium ore. I have a little deal with one of the mining families. If it worked out I was gonna bring Beraht his cut, I swear. I-I'd be crazy not to."

"Suicidal, one might say," Leske added slowly.

"How long have you been cheating Beraht?" Wylan continued.

"N-not long! I mean, I-I'm not cheating him…I mean, this is my first time." He sighed. "Oh please don't kill me."

"Who have you been selling to?"  
"Surfacers pay good coin for lyrium. Mages up there, they use it for their spells, smiths use it in enchanted weapons. I just took the money and ran. I-I mean, back to Beraht to share the profits."

"How much ore did you take?"

"Just a little. Maybe twenty-five sovereigns worth…"

Leske gasped. "Twenty five sovereigns…" He muttered, and Wylan had to agree with him. That was twice as much as a duster ever saw in a life time…

"Most of that's with my buyers on the surface. I just picked up a few nuggets down here." He paused and lowered his voice. "If I were to…maybe give you a piece, that's a lot of coin. Could you uh forget to mention this to Beraht?"

Wylan sighed. "Give me everything you have and maybe I'll let you go."

Oskias's eyes were wide. "I-I can run to the surface. Beraht will never hear of me again, I swear. I'll get out of the business…" he was talking fast, almost incomprehensible. "Open a dry goods shop." He took a small bag out of his purse and passed it under the table to Wylan. "Thank you." He whispered. "You're as noble as you are strong. May the ancestors bless your steps." The merchant walked slowly out of the tavern. After a slow glance at each other, Wylan and Leske followed.

They quickly slipped into the darkest corner they could find. "Was that smart?" Leske muttered. "If Beraht finds out Oskias ran, he'll kill you. He'll kill me. He'll make you kill me, then yourself. Then he'll probably stew us and serve us to the poor."

Wylan put a hand on his friends shoulder. "Don't worry, he'll never find out. I have a plan." In all honesty, Wylan sweated himself, but the opportunity was too good to pass up.

Leske laughed. "That's what I like about you…pure blind optimism. We should sell this quick and report back before Beraht starts wondering what's taking so long." He paused. "Un…unless you think we should give it all to Beraht."

Wylan shook his head. "No…we'll sell one and tell Beraht that we found only one on Oskias."

Leske slowly nodded. "He'd probably buy that. If he knew what and how much Oskias was hoarding, he wouldn't have sent us to look, right?" He bit his lip. "Unless he was testing us."

"You're over thinking it." Wylan said. "Let's find a merchant that won't rat us out to Beraht. What about your friend, Olinda?"

Leske grinned and nodded. "Just what I was going to suggest, follow me." They began walking toward Olinda's stall, nearer to Dust Town. "Olinda used to give me crusts of her week's-end loaf when I was little. She's got a soft spot for me." He chuckled and continued talking to himself. "And she _hates_ Beraht…Woo…you should hear her go on about how its blackmail to pay protection money and the casteless deserve better…"

Soon enough they where there. Olinda was an attractive dwarf of thirty with auburn hair. She smiled as Leske laid eyes on her. "Leske! You old scamp, what're you doing here? Trying to charm me out of another set of ribbons for your girl?"

Leske grinned. "Trying to talk you into being my girl Olinda. You know my heart's breaking for you."

The older dwarf woman blushed. "Don't you go saying that around my husband." She muttered. "And that's….Wylan right?"

He nodded. "We've got some lyrium to sell you."

"Well, that's not what I was expecting to hear cross those lips. Where did you pick up lyrium?"

Leske glanced away. "Don't worry, it's not Beraht's…it's just us Olinda."

She sighed. "How much do you have?"

"One nugget."

"I can give you thirty silvers per nugget."

"Only thirty?" Leske groaned.

"It's less than it's worth, I won't lie to you, but the market for it's topside and that won't be easy for me to reach. And I'll have to find a buyer who won't ask where it came from. For that I can't afford more than thirty."

"It's a deal."

"All right then, Let me take that off your hands." The bag was quickly in Leske's outreached hands, and soon replaced with thirty silver. "And you probably shouldn't come around here for a while, just in case," She added as she slipped the bag under her stand.

The two walked away. Leske gave Wylan fifteen silver pieces. It was more than Wylan had ever had in his life, but much less than he had hoped for. Still, it was better than nothing. The two walked silently over to Beraht's shop, near the Diamond quarter. Jarvia, Beraht's newest lieutenant, along with two guards were in the shop, and the two heads seemed deep in conversation. Wylan could just pick it up.

"The king is old. His rule won't hold much longer." Beraht said, leaning on the counter.

"Prince Bhelen seems far more sympathetic to our interests than Trian or Sereda." Jarvia added, spitting the last name.

Beraht nodded. "Bhelen has some tastes of his own that he knows I can provide." Beraht paused as he finally noticed Wylan and Leske. "We'll finish this later…It's about time you two showed up." He said louder. "What happened to Oskias?"

"He's guilty. Here's the lyrium." Wylan was good at lying at this point, and handed over the last nugget.

Beraht growled. "One lousy nugget? You expect me to believe that's all he got off with?"

"He said he kept most of it topside. That was all we found on him." Leske piped up.

"Jarvia," Beraht barked. "Send a dig-troop topside. If Oskias had a hiding spot up there I want us up to our elbows in it." The hard woman whispered to one of the guards, who nodded and walked through a secret entrance in the shop's wall to the carta's hideout. "And the matter of…punishment?"

"That's what took so long…I killed him myself." Wylan replied with a slight roll of his eyes.

Beraht raised an eyebrow. "Very interesting, seeing how my cousin was at the Tapsters this afternoon. And he says he saw something change hands between you and Oskias and then the duster sodding stood up and walked out on his own two feet! Does that sound like what I ask? Jarvia, what does that sound like to you?" His voice was an angry growl.

"Sounds like some jumped-up face-brands thought they could take a bribe and let him walk free. That's just not right." Jarvia grinned wickedly as she spoke.

"The lady says it's not right. You wouldn't disagree with a lady would you?"

"I don't see any in the room." Wylan muttered. "I'm not stupid enough to kill Oskias in public Beraht."

Leske nodded. "Right. No one's going to say spit to you Beraht, but we can't move that free. We needed to get Oskias somewhere private."

"We took him to the lava sinks behind the mines." Wylan continued. "You won't be seeing him again."

Beraht stroked his beard. "Hmm. I don't like you making me look weak…but it's smart to try and keep the Sword Castes from asking questions." He almost broke a smile. "That's why I like you two. Now, I got something else for you. Make some use of your…unique skills."

Wylan sighed. "Let me guess…I don't really have a choice."  
Beraht laughed. "You've finally catching on. The Warrior Caste is hosting a Proving today—all the best fighters, last man standing, you know the sort of thing. They're showing off for some Grey Wardens who're looking for candidates to drag off to a life of eternal glory. Now, it's not often we get every name fighter in Orzammar lined up like that, and I have certain acquaintances who…taken an interest in this sort of thing."

Wylan's interest was piqued. "Why would the Grey Wardens be here?"

Beraht shrugged. "Topsiders see a couple of darkspawn they start crying and run to Papa Orzammar. They know dwarves are the best when it comes to the darkspawn, so they're here to recruit a couple of bodies to prevent another Blight. Because why should humans have to live with what we get every day."

"So you're going to bet on who the Warden's pick?"

"There's a lot of coin to be made when people get the fever up. Favored fighter's an officer named Mainar, veteran of four darkspawn campaigns. Everd's a long-shot. Just got back from a Deep Roads offensive. Some young buck who has all the ladies drooling. I've got a lot of money riding on him. Mine and other people's. I expect to see that eight to one pay off, understand?"

"Aye, I do."

"The fight only gets announced to contestants themselves…to prevent illegal gambling. So first, you'll have to find Everd, see who he's fighting and when. When the name Mainar comes up, I want you to slip this drug into the bastard's water. It'll slow his reflexes, just enough to take the edge off, not enough to show. But it'll wear off quickly, so don't use it until just before his fight."

"Right, we'll go now."

"You bet you will." Beraht snapped. "Here's your pass to get on the grounds. The Proving starts as soon as the clock strikes. And when I say I have coin on this, I'm not talking about some pittance, like the value of your life. If I don't see Everd's name on the winner's sheet, you'd better make sure I never see you, or your sister, ever again."

Leske and Wylan didn't speak as they exited the shop and made their way across the bridge to the Proving ground. Three guards stood outside the main gate, and of course, took an interest in the face-brands. "Turn around, brand." The guard spit. "No casteless on the grounds."

Wylan practically threw the small slip Beraht had given him at the gaurd. "I have a pass."

The guard took the pass and muttered darkly. "Looks legitimate." Handing the pass back he continued. "Go on through then. But stay to the trenches. Grey Wardens don't need some eyesore getting between them and the fighters."

Wylan clenched his fist as he held his tongue and walked into the Proving grounds. It was the most magnificent building he had seen. High ceilings, crystal lights, carved pillars…beautiful. The room was loud with laughter and whispers, and the two seemed to be unnoticed—though that could be because common folk often acted like the casteless didn't exist. That's what made them such good workers for crime lords. As they walked further in, Wylan noticed a human in strange armor and dress standing amidst the spectators. Leske nudged his arm and he stopped.

"That's one of the Grey Wardens." Leske started. "I dare you to go up to him, say, "excuse me ser, may I drink your bath water?" He had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing.

Wylan shook his head at his friend. He planned on talking to the Grey Warden, but not to joke.

Duncan noticed the two dwarves staring at him and crossed his arms, bowing. "Stone-met and blessing on your house." Wylan's eyes bulged and his jaw slacked. Duncan furrowed his eyebrows and continued. "That was the proper greeting for an outsider last time I visited Orzammar. Has it changed? Or is there a reason you're looking at me so strangely."

Wylan pointed at his cheek brand. "I don't exactly have a house…" He replied softly.

"My apologies," Duncan added, undisturbed by the mark. "The intricacies of dwarven society oft skip my mind. I meant no offense. My name is Duncan. I'd say, "Of the Grey Wardens," but I suspect you already know that. Pleased to meet you."

Wylan shook his head. "I'm Wylan…eyesore, casteless, take your pick…there's a slew of insults to hurl around."

Duncan nodded. "Ah, I remember, that's what the face brand means."

Wylan glanced around at the guards inside the Proving. "Yes…and yes, you can have me arrested for harassing you."

Duncan smiled. "For saying hello?" He laughed heartily. "My friend, to a Grey Warden nothing short of a slavering darkspawn waking you in your bedroll counts as harassment. Actually I'm glad I met you. Whenever we come to Orzammar—which is too rare honestly—we always stay in the Diamond Quarter. You forget how much of the city you miss."

Wylan stared into Duncan's eyes. "Is it true you're here looking for recruits?"

Again Duncan nodded, his smooth voice strong and sure. "The Wardens are always looking for those who have the courage to spend their lives in battle against the darkspawn. It's rare we find those with both the skill and the will. The best Wardens are ruthless to their enemies, compassionate to their fiends and inspiring to their troops." He sighed. "It's a lot to look for, but I hope to find it here." Leske had taken Wylan's shoulder and started to drag him away. "And I hope you also may find what you are looking for." Duncan cried as the two edge away, down a hallway to where the fighters waited.

"What did you do that for?" Wylan muttered, brushing Leske's hand off his shoulder. "I didn't get to ask him about recruiting me."

Leske laughed. "Don't get your hopes up…besides, the fights are going to start soon. We need to find Everd and see when he's fighting Mainar or we'll miss our chance!"

Wylan sighed. "Right…" they continued down into the hall. The rooms were all closed, except for one. Inside was Everd, dead drunk, sprawled out on the floor. His golden armor sat in a open chest next to him. Wylan hung his head. Great…actually, maybe it _was_ great, just the opportunity he needed.

Leske growled. "Sod it! He's stone drunk! He could draw a dead man for his bout and still lose! Beraht's going to kill us if we slip up here. He's already jumpy enough after that stunt with Oskias." He stopped. "Hey I just had an idea…"

"I could put on his armor." Wylan interrupted. "You know, fight in his name."

Leske smiled. "That's much better than my idea. I was going to say we should go up in the stands and start a rockslide, but you're brilliant! Just keep the visor down on that armor and no one will know the difference! He wins, Beraht wins, everybody wins. Except all the Warrior Caste braggarts you leave kissing dust." He laughed. "I sodding love the way you think my friend. I was afraid Beraht was going to kill us."

Wylan was already slipping on Everd's chainmail. "This isn't for Beraht. I want to impress the Grey Wardens."

Leske's eye widened. "You can't let anyone know it's you. If they find out, you'll be executed. They'll say it's an offense to the ancestors. If you want to tell the Wardens, at least wait until some time when you can bolt if you need to."

The engraved mail sat heavy, uncomfortable on his shoulders. "I know," Wylan laughed as he adjusted the chain shirt. "And no drugs…I'll win this fight by skill."

Leske patted his back. "You've got a heart of steel salroka. Get that helmet on!"

"Bout three is next. Officer Mainar versus the warrior Everd!" The Proving Master's voice echoed through the hall. "Fighters, report to the ring!"

After grabbing Everd's custom weapons, he walked over to the Proving Master. "May fortune favor your fight." The older man greeted him. Wylan saw Leske slipping into the crowd. "Are you ready Everd?" Wylan nodded. The guard opened the door to the arena floor.

The roar of the crowd was deafening. And somehow Wylan could not help but feel excited. He glanced around the seats on the walls a story or two above him, searching for the Grey Warden from earlier. Suddenly he heard the clanking of metal armor and the Proving Master naming the fighters.

"This is a glory proving fought under the watchful eyes of the paragons of old for our honored guests the Grey Wardens. The warrior Everd son of Galten will fight officer Mainar survivor of the battle at Kar Elvirn."

Mainar was a burly dark-haired dwarf. "You honor me with this fight." He said with a bow. "May the Stone show the boldest heart through the strongest arm."

Wylan chuckled inside. If only the warrior knew… "For the honor of the Grey Wardens." He replied, somewhat unsure of the correct response.

And then the fight began—first to fall is vanquished. Chainmail restricted a rogue's fighting in many ways but Wylan could tell he still had an advantage in speed. Mainar was wearing full plate, and wielding a greatsword. With just an axe and dagger, Wylan was able to practically dance around the warrior and easily dodge his swings. It took him longer than he expected to find the right weaknesses to down his opponent, but it only seemed a few seconds before he was able to draw enough blood. Mainar fell, and the crowd went wild.

"A truly memorable fight." The echoing voice said. "The young cadet vanquishes the wily veteran." A medic came onto the grounds from the door he had entered in. Wylan waved him off—Mainar hadn't managed to hit him, and he couldn't risk the helmet coming off.

" This is a glory proving fought under the watchful eyes of the paragons of old for our honored guests the Grey Wardens. The warrior Everd, son of Galten will fight last year's journeyman champion Adalbo, proven in glory before the stone."

Another fighter, a red-haired dwarf was his next opponent. "You honor me with this fight." He bowed. "My we both win glory in the eyes of our lords."

"The glory is mine." Wylan replied, also bowing.

Adalbo was quicker, but again Wylan had no problems. He'd been down the Deep Roads a few times himself. Nothing was difficult after killing your first deepstalker. Again the crowd cheered as Adalbo hit the dirt. "The ancestors have withdrawn their blessings and embrace a new champion on their field."

"This is a Glory Proving, fought under the watchful eyes of the paragons of old for our Honored guests the Grey Wardens. The warrior Everd, son of Galten will fight Lenka, silent sister in training she has made her vows but not completed her blooding. Will she be accepted into the legendary order? That will depend on her performance today."

Lenka didn't respond after her introduction—Silent Sisters didn't speak. They couldn't actually, after their vows they cut out their tongues, called a blooding. Lenka must have been practicing. Wylan bowed anyway. "You honor me with this fight. May we both achieve glory." Lenka was slow, like Mainar, wielding a broad sword. She fell, just like the others. Wylan smiled under his helmet. He was going to win…it was just like a dream.

"Everd will advance to the final bout, against…"

And then just like a dream, it ended. "What I'm out already…hey that's my armor" Everd was stumbling in the door Wylan's next opponent was to come through. He cursed under his breath.

"Who are you?" the Proving Master yelled from his perch. One of the dwarves next to him must have recognized Everd, even as drunk as he was, for the man's next words were. "Remove your helmet, warrior, and let all who watched see your face."

"I will not." Wylan threw a fist in the air. "My victories have earned me your respect!"

The Proving Master's voice was strained. "Your skills are impressive, but you are one man. Show yourself, lest I call the guards and have them do it for you!"

Sheathing his weapons, Wylan threw the helmet to the floor. "I am of no caste or clan," he yelled, "But I have defeated you all!"

The whole arena went silent. "Casteless!" The Proving Master yelled. "You insult the very nature of this Proving. Guards take this filth away!"

Duncan walked to the graying dwarf's side. "Hold your men, I pray you. This warrior has defeated the best you have to offer. Is this not what this proving is for?"

The Proving Master turned to his guest, barely keeping composure on his red face. "We are honored by your presence Warden, but this Proving is not solely for you." His voice shook with rage. "There are laws which have governed this arena for a thousand years! This man is no warrior! He is casteless, rejected by the ancestors. His very footsteps pollute the stone. He has no place here." He walked out without another word.

Duncan looked down as the guards beat Wylan, even after his surrender. "Except as your champion." He muttered, and quickly exited the arena. He had a plan.

"Are you awake?" Leske's voice was the next thing Wylan remembered. He was in a cell—but it didn't look like a government cell. In fact it looked vaguely familiar. "Can you hear me?" Wylan moved closer to the bars and nodded. His friend was in an adjacent cell looking nervously at him. "How hard did they sodding hit you anyway? Did you have to put up such a fight?"  
Wylan laughed dryly. "I just hope I took some of them down with me!"

"Oh, you did." Leske replied. "And don't think they didn't show me their appreciation. One of the guards recognized me and figured we must be working together. They burned three candles to the stump interrogating me about who put us up to this. I think they knew, you know, about Beraht."

Wylan leaned against the bars, still chuckling to himself, riding the high of his achievement. "What's the sentence for ridiculing the entire Warrior Caste?"  
Leske sighed. "Public whipping. Loss of your left hand for stealing the armor. Loss of your right hand for befouling a smith's work. Public flaying for impersonating a higher caste, and if that doesn't kill you, they'll put you to death for polluting the Proving." He tossed a rock against the wall. "That Grey Warden suggested exile, but it didn't seem like anyone was listening."

At the mention of the Wardens, Wylan's mind sparked. "Oh no…" he muttered. "Leske, Beraht said he'd go for Rica if we were caught. We need to go!"

Leske scoffed. "You think I didn't' look for a way out? Rica's not the only one in danger here. They could kill us! But these cells are built straight into the wall and they confiscated all my lock-picks."

Wylan began to look around. Lots of rocks…as he shifted through the layers of dirt he found some small bones. Excellent

"Good. You're awake. Beraht will be glad to hear that."

Wylan groaned. He knew that bitter voice, and as he turned around he knew he would not be happy to see the accompanying smug face. "You caused a lot of trouble today. Beraht lost a hundred sovereigns for Lord Vollney. The entire Proving was declared invalid and the Assembly already called for an investigation. You can't imagine the state Beraht was in when he told me to get you."

Well, that confirmed it, he thought. He was in Beraht's cells now. He chuckled. "Hey Leske, hear that, we're home."

Jarvia growled. "I don't think I appreciate the time and money it took to bribe the right people to get you back. You've got every guardsman at that Proving thinking if he takes you head off, the ancestors will bless him forever." She chuckled and fingered her hip-blade. "But they know whose hand holds the whip. When Beraht claimed you, they knew who's going to get to watch your last breath."

"No one you know." Wylan quipped. "You'll be dead before I will."

Jarvia laughed. "I doubt it. You risked exposing Beraht before the entire Warrior Caste. Now they're asking questions, and as long as you have tongues to answer them you're a threat. Enjoy your last night boys. Beraht'll be by soon to make sure you maintain your silence."

Wylan watched her walk away into the darkness. The guard daydreamed in a corner, and a few minutes later, he grabbed a bone and began to work at his lock. The door swung open and he began to pick Leske's lock. The guard noticed. As he rushed Wylan, the rogue handed Leske the bone and kept the guard's attention by dodging. Thank goodness the guard was slow. And…on the ground, Wylan realized suddenly. Leske had nailed him with a stone. Wylan grinned.

"I think our equipment is in that chest." Leske said. He was right, and the two quickly suited up and fought their way through the compound. Wylan was glad to be in his leather armor again—his new bruises would have made the chainmail even more uncomfortable. Before he realized it, they were at Beraht's room's door—after having to fight what seemed like half the carta. The steel door was unlocked, and they opened slowly.

Beraht stood in the center of the room talking to two well-armed men, ones that Wylan had not seen before."I'm cutting the whore free." Beraht was saying. "If that turncoat brother of hers doesn't know his place, I don't need precious Rica either."

One of the men whistled. "That the pretty one done up in paint and silk, with the flaming hair? I've been wanting to get my hands on her."

Beraht smiled. "Have fun boys, and take it from me. It tastes as good as it looks."  
Wylan growled. "You'll do no such thing Beraht. Leave my sister alone."

Beraht laughed. "Let's teach this little duster a lesson."

Beraht used a sword and shield, and his two goons used double daggers. Wylan licked his lips, time to fight dirty. He would enjoy beating Beraht's face into the dirt. The Assassins were quicker, however, and he motioned to Leske to help him take out the two rogues. With a quick cheap shot to the first man, Wylan knocked him to the stone and sliced his throat. Then he turned his attention to Beraht, whose face had just paled significantly. The bulb-nosed dwarf was out of his league. Wylan played with him a while, dancing around while Beraht tried to land a hit. As Beraht's blows became sloppy—which didn't take too long—Wylan decided to end the charade. Beraht's head hit the floor before his body. Wylan was bathed in his blood.

"Did you see him there," Leske started, as soon as Beraht's body hit the ground. His voice was half gone, shaking. "all, when we're done with you?" And you just charged in and sodding slaughtered him!" He laughed and threw a fist into the air.

"As long as he never made it to Rica…" Wylan muttered, making his way to the back of the room, where he was sure both the treasury and exit were.

"Well, he was sure talking like she's still alive. But I won't turn down the chance to go take another peek." He paused while Wylan looted the treasury then added quickly. "Hey, could you tell Rica I killed him. I mean, it doesn't do you any good if she thinks you're the most virile warrior in all the Stone…"

Wylan glared. "Let's just get out of here before the guardsmen show up."

Leske nodded. "You said it. Fortunately, if Beraht's got them trained like he says, it should be a good long time before any guardsmen turn up here." They silently made their way up through the tunnel and out the entrance in Beraht's store. With a deep breath, Wylan slowly opened the door to the Merchant Quarter.

"There they are! Seize the fugitives."

Wylan sighed as he was quickly surrounded by guards. "I just killed Beraht. You should be thanking me."

The Proving Master was with them. He balked. "He's dead? Beraht had many enemies, but also powerful allies. They…"

"Beraht would have butchered us if he hadn't killed him first!" Leske yelled.

"Your friend has once again demonstrated his courage." Wylan saw the Grey Warden behind the guards. With Rica….she was safe. "We Grey Wardens travel far and wide in search of those with potential to join our ranks. It seems I have found one." Duncan smiled.

"Are you asking me to become a Grey Warden?" Wylan couldn't help holding his breath.

"Let me make my offer formal. I, Duncan of the Grey Wardens, extend the invitation for you to join our order."

The Proving Master was fuming. "This man is a criminal. You can't do this!"

Duncan stared him down. "I can and I am." He turned back to Wylan. "It would mean travelling to the surface lands and thus leaving your people, but it does offer you the chance to strike a blow against the darkspawn and the Blight."

Wylan could hardly believe his luck. "What's the trick?"

Duncan shook his head. "While it is no trick, it is a dangerous life. I can promise you no guarantee of safety. I can also give nothing in return for these hazards. In joining me, you leave all you know behind."

The dwarf nodded. "I just want to talk to my sister before I decide."

Duncan smiled. "And I see your friend would like to speak to you as well."

Leske shook him by the shoulders. "Those guys must've seriously cracked your skull. You're not going to turn down being a Grey Warden, are you?"

"I don't want to leave Rica."  
"Well, don't you worry about that. Ol' Leske'll take care of her…" he grinned.

Wylan smiled. "That's what I'm afraid of."  
"She'll be the first one telling you to go. She never wanted this to be your life."

"I know."

"Well, go back and tell him yes before _he_ comes to his senses!"  
Wylan turned to his sister and gave her a strong hug. "I couldn't believe it when Ser Duncan said he wanted to recruit you." Rica's face was glowing as she spoke. "I was ready to kill you when I heard what you did at the Proving—but it worked out for the best."

"What are you doing here Rica?"

"When I heard you'd been arrested, I ran straight to the Proving Grounds but you'd already disappeared. That's when Ser Duncan said he wanted to invite you into the Grey Wardens. I almost fell over." She giggled.

"I don't want to leave you alone here."

"Those are the rules of the order. All Wardens leave their familiar behind."

"But how will you take care of yourself? And Mother?"

"Please don't hold yourself back because of me. I think—for the first time—mother and I will be fine. I spent the afternoon with my new patron. If everything works out…maybe I can even greet you as an equal if you return."

"This the man you spoke of earlier?"

"Yes. He calls me his amber rose." She giggled and blushed. "Isn't that sweet? He has a voice like a poet. He has already promised to move Mother and me into better lodging, where he can find me more quickly when he wants me."

"And you'll be happy like this?"

"I am. Truly. I could never make a life fighting darkspawn. But if I can bear a son who makes his house proud, that's all I can ask." She sighed softly. "Go, little brother. Make the world a better place."

Wylan turned to Duncan. "I'll go with you; I'm ready."

"Then before these witnesses I hereby recruit you into the Grey Wardens. Know that you are most welcome. We will be staying in the city for two more days, for the Lady Aeducan's ceremony and first command, when we brave the Deep Roads. But I would like to make you a gift of this mace, since you have so few possessions of your own. It was once wielded by the Warden Foral Aeducan. I know you will continue his proud example. Now, follow me to our quarters in the Diamond Quarter and I will introduce you to a few more of the Wardens who came with me on this trip."


	2. Chapter 2

Meanwhile, the king's second child, Lady Sereda Aeducan, was preparing rather reluctantly for an assembly in her honor—a commission as a commander in the army. She snapped on the last piece of her warrior's armor, adorned with the symbols of her house and class and sighed.

"Greetings, my lady," Gorim, her second, had opened the door to her chambers and she smiled. "You are dressed and ready. Excellent. I couldn't find the armor's matching dagger, but I scrounged up a rather fancy longsword." He grinned. "Do you wish to wear your shield to the noble's feast?"

She nodded, still smiling. "Yes, let them see me as a warrior.

The handsome dwarf chuckled. "As opposed to the Paragon or Beauty."

Sereda licked her lips. "Close the door. I'll show you a Paragon of Beauty."

Gorim turned away, his strawberry blonde hair and beard rustling. "Don't you remember how this game goes? I get undressed, then one of your brothers or cousins appears and thrashes me." He shook his head and continued rather sadly. "I'll take my chances somewhere, outside the palace if you don't mind. Perhaps after the feast?" he paused and shrugged. "Well…thoughts for later, I suppose." He coughed, his brilliant green eyes darted away. "Moving on to the business at hand…The king expects you to make an appearance at the feast, but there's no rush. The noble family heads will spend hours boring your father with petitions and petty grievances."  
Sereda scoffed. She was so tired of the endless politics and charades of honor in Orzammar. No noble family had any honor anymore, not after all the backs they stabbed to get power. If anyone had any honor, they'd be out there trying to fight the corruption in Orzammar, or help the Casteless. "What about my brothers?" She asked, flopping down on the bed loudly, her armor clinking.

"Out and about. I saw them on my way here, browsing the shops. As part of the celebrations, permits have been auctioned off to members of the Merchant Caste who wished to sell wares in the Diamond Quarter. Lord Harrowmont has also opened up the Provings for young warriors to test their mettle before tomorrow's battle." Another pause. "Rumor has it that Harrowmont hopes you'll be swept off your feet if a well-placed young nobleman wins the Provings in your honor."

Sereda laughed—as if! "Should we tell him I already have all the man I need?" she purred softly, sitting up.

Gorim shrugged. "Why not? I'll just wear a sign that says, "Assassinate me before Lady Aeducan marries beneath her." Better yet, let's just enjoy the time we have before the feast."

The Lady stood up. "The Proving sounds appealing. Let's go have a look." She gave Gorim a quick kiss on the cheek, before stealing the longsword from his hands with a giggle and strapping it to her back. Her shield, which had been leaning against the far wall, soon joined it and the two were off. The Royal Palace was large and spacious, and wonderfully decorated. The two passed guards, and her brother Trian's room. As they approached Bhelen, the youngest brother's room, a woman with red hair called out, then gasped and ran back into the room. Sereda shook her head and followed the pretty girl.

She had a face brand, but fine clothes and make-up. "I…I'm sorry. I thought you were Prince Bhelen coming down the hall. I…forgive me."

Sereda smiled. "No offense taken, my dear. What's your name?"

"What…I-I'm Rica, my Lady. I will show myself out, with your leave, my Lady."

"Rica, do not be bothered on my account." She laughed and hugged the woman. "You are much nicer than the other Mistresses I have met. Let us hope he marries you. I for one would be glad to see a such a victory for the casteless."

Rica's eyes widened. "I…I…I don't know what to say." She took a seat on the floor, her right hand to her chest.

"You do not have to say anything. It is the truth. Now, have a good day, my friend. I'll pray to the ancestors you have a son." Sereda waved and walked out.

Gorim stared at her as they continued out the hallways and to the main door of the palace. Sereda knew her second, her bodyguard, always found her lack of regard for the castes disarming. So she tried to strike up conversation. "Are you excited about tomorrow, Gorim? Our first battle in the Deep Roads…"

He smiled, shaken from his trance. "Yes, I yearn to face the darkspawn and prove my worth as your second."

She grinned. "We'll be spectacular."

He opened the door for her as they walked outside. "May the stone support us, and the ancestors look down with pride."

Their pleasant conversation was soon interrupted by shouting. Just outside the palace gates a blonde, aging scholar was being backed into the railing by a burly dwarf in blood red heavy armor. The latter's long black hair and a thick beard shook as snapped at the older man.

"Please Master Vollney, my work is accredited by the shaper!" The scholar pleaded.

"These books are lies written by the enemies of house Vollney." The man growled. As Sereda walked closer, she could tell who the bully was. Bruntin Vollney—they had met once briefly at some function long ago.

"I wrote only what I find in the ancient records." The scholar continued, his low voice straining in high pitched terror. He saw Sereda and called out to her. "Lady Aeducan! You can vouch for my work, can't you? Your father loved my History of Aeducan: Paragon, King Peacemaker!"

Bruntin turned around and Sereda grinned, glancing sideways at hot-headed noble. "Ah, you must be scholar Gertek then. I enjoyed that book as well. Very accurate."

Bruntin shook his fist at Gertek. "This…worm has written a book that slanders my house!"

Sereda glanced at Gorim with a raised left eyebrow. "What does it say Bruntin?"

The noble hesitated. "It doesn't matter! It's all lies!"

She turned to Gertek. "Tell me what it says scholar."

Gertek stared at the ground. "My work tells the stories of all of those raised to Paragons in the last five hundred years. When the Assembly names a Paragon, that man or woman is then, by definition, everything one can aspire to be in the world. They form their own noble houses, and are revered as living ancestors. But Paragons start off as men."

"Vollney was more than a man!" Bruntin yelled indignantly.

Sereda sighed. Dwarves had no gods, but honored their ancestors. She often thought some took Paragons too religiously. All ancestors, all Paragons were men, with the frailties and weaknesses of their brothers. "Scholar, tell Vollney what you wrote of Aeducan."

"Aeducan was much loved, but he was still a man. He was plagued by melancholy and his fervor regarding Orzammar's safety bordered on obsession. When Aeducan was proposed as a Paragon, only one lord in the Assembly objected. The others savagely hacked him to death. Aeducan's motion passed without a single dissenting vote."

"Unlike Vollney! Is that what you mean old man?" Bruntin interrupted loudly.

"Vollney became a Paragon by the narrowest margin in history," Gertek continued. "One vote—a vote mired in rumors of intimidation, intrigue and outright bribery." He hesitated and continued. "The records of that vote are kept in the Shaperate and are a matter of fact. Not liking history doesn't make it any less true!"

Sereda nodded. "The scholar is right Bruntin."

Bruntin's eyes practically popped out of his head. "You're taking his side? What if he published a book like this about your Paragon Aeducan?"

"There were negative sections in his book about Aeducan. The truth is more important than your pride Bruntin." Sereda said sternly.

The noble's eyes narrowed. "You would not say so if it was your house, but I shall respect your wishes. For now—know you have not made an ally this day. " he growled. "Excuse me, your Highness." He glanced venomously back as he walked deeper into the Diamond Quarter.

Gorim's armor clanked and creaked as he clenched his fists. "That fool has no idea how weak his house is or how low he sits in it." He muttered, and drew Sereda aside. "Shall I have him killed my lady?"

Sereda sighed. More politics—things were tense enough in the assembly. Her family had no end of support, but the trouble would come with her father's death, whenever it happened. But on a day that was supposed to be a celebration she did not want to think about conflict. "Do," she replied finally, but make it look an accident." Vollney was one of the more unscrupulous houses, and she could not have her family hurt from her actions.

Gorim stared in her eyes. "Understood." He said softly before walking away.

Gertek slumped over, relaxing on the railing behind him, and then smiled at Sereda. "You've shown yourself more daring and aggressive today than most believed of you. Someday, I hope to write of the great exploits you are sure to perform."

She smiled almost sadly. "Write the truth; hopefully my actions can live up to your expectations."

Gorim had returned. "Word has been sent. He won't live past the hour."

"You've shown House Aeducan a friend to research, history and the glory of our people." The scholar continued."

The princess nodded. "Carry on with your work scholar."

He bowed with a large smile. "Of course. I have much to document and organize. Good day your Highness, and thank you." His robes swished as he walked back to the Shaperate, deeper into the Diamond Quarter.

Sereda and Gorim walked through the merchant stalls—every merchant they approached babbled on about being honored that the Lady Aeducan was at his stall. As they entered the middle of the mass of merchants—where there was a small break in the packed stalls, she heard a tenor voice call out to her.

"Atrast vala big sister." It was Bhelen, her younger brother. He was standing next to Trian, the oldest Aeducan sibling. "How surprising to run into you out among the common folk." Both the boys were blondes—just as their father and she herself were. Both Trian and Sereda had their father's steel eyes; Trian's were cold as he frowned on his sister.

"Especially since duty require that you attend our king father at the feast today. Have you so little respect for him to disregard his wishes on a day set aside for you?"  
Gorim spoke up immediately. "Lord Harrowmont told me we wouldn't be needed for hours at least…"

"Silence!" Trian snapped. "If I want the opinion of my sister's second, I will ask for it."

"Yes, your Highness." Gorim diverted his eyes.

Sereda glared at Trian. "Don't speak to Gorim like that."

"I speak to lower houses and castes as they should be spoken to." Trian growled "Now do as I say."

The only sister scoffed. "Keep barking orders. I'm sure I'll care someday."

The tension was rising between the two, as it often did—the two were almost polar opposites in many ways. "Your lack of a sense of duty to your house is obvious. I can't imagine why you are receiving a commission. I expect after tomorrow I'll spend much time apologizing to the heads of the noble houses for the deaths of their children under your incompetent command."

Bhelen's eyes flashed. "That's a bit harsh, isn't it Trian?"

The crown prince rolled his eyes. "As heir to the throne it is my duty to impart wisdom and judgment upon those who need it. Now then, you, get to the feast."

Sereda grabbed Gorim's hand. "It's cute how you think you can order me around Trian. You're not Father." She began to drag her second off, when Train gripped her shoulder.

"I'd advise you to watch that tongue, dear sister. Father will not live forever." He let go and glanced back at Bhelen. "Come Bhelen." The two Aeducan brothers walked away, toward the palace.

Sereda chewed her lip, and Gorim sighed next to her. "That was fun. Nothing like being talked down to by the next king." He dropped Sereda's hand quickly.

She glanced back at him. "I'm sorry…I wish Father could impart some wisdom to Trian before he becomes king."

Gorim laughed. "We can only hope. Perhaps we should get going?"

Sereda smiled, "Only if you mean to the Proving."

They had only walked a small ways when Sereda heard a smooth female voice. "Oh…what about that one, I always hoped to end up with a red head." Two females, both blonde and not altogether unattractive were staring at Gorim from in front of a shop. Sereda approached and the two bowed. "Greetings, my lady. May I say you look striking today?" The first one said, her blue eyes flashing. Again she looked Gorim over. "Is this your paramour?" She asked. "He wears both his vambraces…unmarried and eligible!" Her voice was almost giddy.

Gorim smiled beside her. "I'm flattered, ladies, but I'm not a noble. I'm a knight of the Warrior Caste."

"Warrior Caste isn't bad," The woman continued, her pretty blonde hair falling in her face.

Her friend shook her shoulder. "Teli, we didn't pay gold for these permits to take Warrior Caste."

Teli sighed. "I guess you're right Mardy. Sorry Ser."

Sereda shook her head with a smile. Noble-hunters—women hoping to bear a noble man's son so she may be raised in caste in order to care for the child. Many people looked quite favorably upon such women, especially because strong sword-arms were needed with the constant darkspawn threat. They certainly weren't unattractive—Sereda tossed around the idea of seducing the first, Teli, but decided it would be cruel. "We could use some more Aeducan swords." She said with a smile. "My brothers are…taken…but I would love to mention you to some cousins."

Mardy and Teli's eyes widened. "My lady is kind and generous beyond her duty." Mardy said with a bow.

Gorim chuckled as they walked off. "I see what you did there…those women don't know what they walked into." Gorim knew about the Lady's penchant for females, and her dislike for the caste system. "I'm lucky they didn't want Warrior Caste aren't I?"

Sereda grinned. "Nonsense—you'd have to be in on the fun." They continued walking. "Besides, it's a win-win for me either way. They further blur the lines between castes, and if I happen to get rewarded for my efforts." She laughed, then stopped as she noticed a weapons shop.

Her second shook his head. "Not again…" he muttered. The Lady had an eye for weapons like a bandit had eyes for jewelry.

The weapons merchant tensed immediately as she approached. "Greetings, my lady Aeducan." He took a deep breath. "I am…so honored to have you visit my booth." He started, his voice shaking. "I have a…proposition, but I dared not approach."

Gorim raised an eyebrow. "Yet you dare now?"

Sereda knocked Gorim with her armored hip. "It's all right. I'll hear him out."

The warrior sighed. "Very well, then. Speak Merchant."

The merchant bowed and began to stutter. "Um, yes, just so. Here is the thing. What I mean to say is…"

"It's all right." Sereda added softly.

"Sorry," the merchant muttered. "So nervous. I had a sword made. For you. As a gift for your first command. I, uh, sent a messenger to deliver the weapon to you. Prince Trian had him thrown out. I don't know what offense he caused, but I had him beaten severely."

Sereda bit the inside of her lip. Damn Trian… "Let me see this sword." She said.

The merchant unwrapped a shining blade from silk cloth.

"That's an amazing piece, merchant," Gorim said, taking the longsword.

The merchant bowed. "You do me much honor Ser. The blade has been crafted over a period of two years by masters of every art. I wish to bless the Lady's first command, and hope that someday, when she rules, she will wear it."

Gorim began to growl again. "Trian is the heir. He will rule when Endrin returns to the Stone."

The merchant began to mutter again, slumping slightly. "If the Assembly wills it. Forgive me, ser, but whispers say the second child of Endrin will be chosen."

Turning to Sereda, Gorim scoffed. "Whispers, indeed. It's a princely gift. If Trian recognizes it, though, it may send the wrong message." He knew Sereda's ideals—and about view of being Queen.

Sereda gently took the blade from Gorim. "Damn what Trian thinks—this is a wonderful blade. I'll take it."

The merchant smiled widely. "Thank you! You bring uncountable honor to me."

Gorim rolled his eyes. "What he means is that you'll bring uncountable gold to him if you wear that piece in public." He muttered as they walked on. The Lady's obsession with blades had won; he only hoped it would not endanger her life.

They were almost to the exit of the Diamond quarter. Sereda indicated there was one more shop she wished to visit. As they arrived, however, the proprietor promptly fainted. The Lady growled and slammed her fist into the counter.

Gorim looked around, then put a hand on her shoulder. "You make quite the impression these days." He knew how she hated the constant fawning.

She sighed. "Argh…I hate it Gorim."

He lowered his voice. "I know my Lady, it is all right."

She smiled at him, and then tore her eyes away. They found the exit blocked by three guards in addition to the normal sentries. The leading man, a spikey hair man with auburn stubble stopped her. "My lady. Are you heading to the Proving Arena?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Yes. I intend to watch the Provings."

"We have been charged with the task of escorting you to the Proving grounds."

Gorim swore under his breath. "I clean forgot about that." He said. "Forgive me, I should have informed you sooner. The king decided you are not to travel through the commons unguarded."

Sereda laughed. "What? Why?"

Her second smiled. "I did mention the merchants that won permits to show their goods in the Diamond Quarter? Your father fears you will be harassed by those that were turned away."

The Lady Aeducan shook her head. "I can easily defend myself—and I already have you Gorim." She said, dismissing the idea with a wave of her hand. "This is silly, but I will comply."

The guard seemed emotionally uninvolved. "Will we be leaving then?" He asked flatly

She nodded.

They walked through the Merchant Quarter—people stared as always, but none of them approached. The main gate's guard nodded at her, and they made their way quickly across the bridge to the Proving grounds. The guards rushed to let them in and her unit of guards led her to the Proving Master's seat, where the guests of honor always watched. The Proving Trainer was standing in the corner. Sereda approached him with a smile. "Are you here to watch the Proving my Lady?" He asked with a short bow.

"I was hoping to compete actually."

He laughed. "Your participation will inspire these fighters to even greater effort."

Gorim interrupted. "This is the lead trainer of the Provings my Lady. He teaches nobles from lower houses without their own trainers and the best young men from the warrior Caste."

"He does Orzammar a great service."

The Proving Trainer bowed. "You are too kind. Did the two of you hear about the scandal here just two days ago?"

Sereda raised an eyebrow—scandals were often something she approved of, but she had not heard of this particular incident, probably because of the ceremony today. "What scandal?"

The Proving Trainer leaned in. "The Grey Wardens are in Orzammar searching for recruits, so the Warrior Caste arranged a Proving. The goal was for the Grey Wardens to recruit the winner, bringing him honor and a chance for glory."

"I take it that did not happen."

The Trainer frowned. "Well, yes and no. It was like nothing I'd ever seen. Ser Everd, fresh from fighting darkspawn, got dead drunk before the Proving. Then some casteless bruiser took Ser Everd's armor, wore it, and won the Proving."

Her armor clanked as she laughed. "Ha! Good for him."

Gorim sighed. "Lady Aeducan likes to see the world shaken up."

"Well, shake up the world it did," the trainer replied. "They took the imposter to jail, but the Grey Warden recruited him anyway! Invoked the right of conscription—they're even taking him into the Deep Roads with them tomorrow. Needless to say the Warrior Caste is in an uproar. An incident like this raises many questions."

Sereda shrugged. "I am not surprised—and I think some of these questions should be addressed."

"Really?" The trainer asked. "How the brand got in here?"  
"Or how a casteless learned to fight like that," Gorim added. "They aren't even allowed to possess weapons."

"I heard they fight in the Slums with the old cast-offs. I'm almost curious to see." The trainer replied.

"I doubt King Endrin would approve of that." Gorim responded.

The Lady smiled. "I would imagine Father wouldn't. But I do…we need every arm we can get against the darkspawn."

The Trainer coughed. "I have to go check on the fighters." He smiled and bowed. "It was an honor to speak with you your Highness."

Sereda nodded. "A pleasure, Ser."

She turned her attention to the grey-haired Proving Master who bowed as she approached. "Your Highness, it is an honor to have you here. Have you come to watch these brave warriors do battle in your honor?"

She smiled. "No, I've come to fight."

He coughed. "Your Highness, this Proving is in your honor."

Gorim raised his voice. "Then honor her by doing as she says. Lady Aeducan will fight in this Proving."

Sereda nodded. "I will honor today's warriors by testing their skills."

The Proving Master bowed his head. "Of course, it is well within your rights." He turned to the arena. "Men and women of Orzammar," he boomed. "We have a late entry to these Provings, held on the eve of battle for the honor of House Aeducan. I give you…the Lady Aeducan herself." He turned back to Sereda as the crowd responded enthusiastically and said softer, "Are you ready for your first match? We were just about to begin when you arrived."

She smiled. "Of course."

The guards lead her through the stands to the fighters' area and waited there. Gorim clapped her on the shoulder as she walked into the arena's floor. The Proving Master introduced her and she waved, smiling at the crowd. He told the crowd about her first opponent, Aller Bemot, the youngest son of Lord Bemot—a kind boy that Sereda considered a friend. Their houses were close, if nothing else. Aller bowed. "You honor me with this match." She returned the bow. "The honor is mine, friend." As with any glory Proving, the duel was to first blood, and the two warriors began to circle. Aller bore a great hammer, while Sereda used her newest sword and shield. After dancing around each other for a few passes and fakes, Sereda landed a strong blow of her shield to Aller's arm, making him drop his weapon. Her own blade pierced through his armor. The Proving master announced her victory. The crowd cheered loudly. She spent her break in the Fighter's area with Gorim. "That was quite a fight. Aller Bemot is no slouch with that hammer." Her second said with a smile. And soon enough she was called back in.

Adal Helmi stood before her, a young woman her own age who the Lady Aeducan had often sparred with during their training. Adal bowed. "You are my inspiration, your Highness, and to all of us who follow your example and live by the sword." Sereda returned the bow. "I am honored, thank you." The fight was much more difficult, and Sereda was glad for her shield style. Adal used double blades and was quick on her feet. The fight quickened as Sereda deprived the warrior of one of her blades, and then quickly knocked her to her back, nicking her arm from the outside. Adal smiled at her from the ground. Again the Proving master announced her victory to the roar of the crowd. Gorim grinned at her as she entered the Fighter's area. "The crowd sure liked that one…nothing like a cat fight eh?" she elbowed him and he laughed. Again she was called back into the ring.

The man before her was old for a warrior, but still at a ripe fighting age. Ser Blackstone, a Deep Roads squad leader of the Warrior Caste. The bald dwarf did not bow. "This is your education child." He said, staring her down. "Try to learn as you bleed." Sereda raised her eyebrows. " Good luck to you too." She muttered as the battle commenced. A greatsword—she chuckled. Fool's play. Ser Blackstone was strong, and swift for a man using a blade as big as he was, but Sereda was easily able to stay behind him and find that weakness in his armor. She drew first blood easily. The crowd cheered to the announcement of her victory, but she was already on her way to the Fighters area. Gorim smiled again at her. "Well done—though should I really be surprised?" They sat down together. "I heard your next opponent is Frandlin Ivo—a decorated fighter who uses unusual styles and weapons. His house is relatively inconsequential, but Frandlin may change that. He's expected to take a full command of his own soon." Sereda nodded; this bout sounded interesting.

Frandlin Ivo, the second son of Lord Ivo was not especially attractive, but he seemed strong, more mentally strong than most warriors. He bowed and spoke softly. "You fight well. I wish you glory today and glory tomorrow." Sereda bowed back. "May you be as stone." Frandlin was using a style quite similar to her own and she grinned. They fought evenly for a good while—and then Sereda changed her tactics. She wasn't as talented with two weapons, but she dropped her shield and grabbed her hip dagger. At Ivo's next hit she dodged and used the extra speed she had acquired to hit a weak spot in his armor. First blood was hers, as was victory and the crowd's appreciation.

The Proving master and her guards walked her back up to the booth. "Congratulations." The Proving master began. "Frandlin Ivo is as fierce a competitor as I've ever seen. You have vanquished every warrior of note in today's Proving. The ceremonial helm commissioned by your father for today's winner is yours."

Sereda shook her head. "Send it to Frandlin Ivo. He fought bravely and earned a reward."

The Proving Master failed an attempt to hide his surprise. "The people will remember your honor and generosity for all time."

Gorim motioned for the guard, and drug Sereda away from the Proving grounds. On the way back to the Palace Sereda pulled Gorim aside. "I wish I had been able to fight the casteless who won the Proving for the Grey Warden." She whispered.

Gorim laughed loudly, then stopped. "You're serious…" he shook his head. "I doubt he could beat your skill my lady. Many of those fighting today fought in that Proving as well."

Sereda shrugged. "Perhaps…"

Once they reached the Diamond Quarter, the guard departed, and Gorim and Sereda walked to the palace without stopping. Sereda took a deep breath and opened the door to the main hall. The heads of most of the noble houses were scattered through the hall; one of them beckoned her over. She knew him by reputation—Lord Ronus Dace, a quick witted man with a talent for coin, and the leader of one of the strongest houses besides Aeducan. He could only mean trouble, but she would hear him out.

He bowed. "Many thanks for your willingness to hear me out, my lady. I wish to speak to you of a matter most urgent." She nodded and he continued. "There is a vote coming before the Assembly next week, and a word from you could go a long way towards helping our cause."

Sereda glanced at Gorim and settled into her left hip. "What cause is this?"

He continued, his voice smooth and soft. "The vote concerns the status of the so-called surface caste. Lost to the Stone, air-touched and so forth. Centuries ago, narrow-minded men declared that any dwarf who left to live on the surface forfeited his caste, and his house if noble. That he was, in essence no long a dwarf. I seek only to remedy an injustice, to retie the bonds of anyone who can trace himself to one of the noble houses, wherever he may live." He paused. "Please, agree to speak for this noble cause."

"Why so interested in this particular cause?" Sereda asked.

"Those on the surface are our lifeline. They facilitate trade with the surface. They're honorable and…um…" he sighed. "Let's be honest. I don't care a whit for those who have wandered from the Stone. My wife however, is a gem of a different color. She has a cousin, a useless sort, but she is quite fond of him. He joined a speculative venture to the surface, hoping to make his fortune and went bust. Now he wishes to come home, but he cannot, for he has no house, and would be casteless. For my wife's sake, I take up his cause. Will you lend me your voice?"

Sereda chewed her tongue. "What do you need me to do then?" she asked finally.

"When your father presents you to the noble houses, I will ask for your opinion on the matter. You have merely to say that you feel our surface brothers should be returned their noble rights." He smiled. "What could be more simple?"

Sereda walked away without a greeting. She noticed Lady Helmi glaring at her from the next table. The Lady was an old friend of the family—her daughter was betrothed to Trian. If she could trust any of the politicians to tell her the truth, it was Helmi.

"Your mother would melt the stone if she knew what you just did." She snapped as Sereda approached.

"I don't like the idea, but he seemed earnest enough."

Lady Helmi shook her head. "Lord Dace is playing you false. Go ahead, be his puppet. Your first command will be marked by every major house turning their back on you."

"I'm listening."

"The truth is, Last spring, a guild from the Merchant caste invested heavily in a expedition with a guild from the surface. Lord Dace backed the merchant guild, pouring a great deal of money into the venture. The expedition was disaster."

Sereda nodded. "So this is Lord Dace's play to recover his losses?"

Helmi smiled. "Clever child. Lord Dace lost a great deal of money and prestige. The surface guild has no way to repay the investment. But it does have several leading members who are descended from noble houses. House Helmi, Bemot…Aeducan."

"If the surface dwellers returned to their noble houses…"

"You begin to see the whole picture. Your house and mine would be forced to pay the surfacers' kin debts. It would be a great victory for Lord Dace."

Sereda ran her fingers over the hilt of her hip dagger. "It seems I need to have a talk with Lord Dace."

Helmi shook her head. "If you call his bluff, then you lose your chance to turn the tables. Let him think he has you. Smile and nod, and when he asks his question, tell him that the so-called surface caste are right where they belong. That should take Lord Dace down a peg or two."

Sereda nodded. "Thank you for the advice."

Helmi grinned. "You're welcome. Remember this when my house needs your assistance." She turned and walked away and Sereda grimaced, motioning for Gorim to come closer. Her pride burned at Lord Dace for attempting to use her sympathies for the casteless against her own house. And yet…she had nothing against his son--the man she knew she'd have to kill in an honor Proving.

She sighed; she'd do what she had to. "Gorim, those are the Grey Wardens, are they not?" she asked, trying to forget the situation. The Grey Wardens were across the way from Helmi; two men in leather armor, and one man, Duncan in the foreground.

He nodded. "Perhaps tomorrow is no ordinary raid…."

She grinned. "Do you think they'd recruit me? Or maybe both of us?"

Gorim laughed. "Do you even believe for one minute your father would let you leave?"

Sereda shrugged. "It couldn't hurt to ask right?"

Duncan noticed her approach and gave the customary human bow, with his arms crossed over his armored chest. "Greetings my Lady Aeducan. It is an honor to meet you at last."

Sereda smiled, and bowed herself. "The honor is mine, Warden."

"I have had the opportunity to recently meet with your father. He speaks highly of you. He says you may be the strongest fighter in all of House Aeducan."

"My father does me great honor." She glanced momentarily at her father, who sat in his throne at the head of the hall, deep in conversation with Lord Meino.

"I have no doubt it is deserved. We need more Grey Wardens like you. And quickly. Even as the darkspawn weaken here in Orzammar, they are stirring on the surface. A Blight has begun. Soon the fight must go beyond the Deep Roads, lest the darkspawn threaten all the world."

"I wonder if Father would allow me to join you."

Duncan chuckled. "Alas I do not think he would take kindly to that suggestion. As the child of the king and heir after Lord Trian, your place is here."

Sereda sighed. "I would like nothing more than to be a Grey Warden."

"Truly? Then I will speak to your father after tomorrow's battle. I have my doubts he will relent but there is always hope. Until then, good luck to you. Show the darkspawn what your people are made of." They bowed to each other, and Sereda bit her lip. Time to get the ceremony over with—hopefully the battle tomorrow would be much more interesting.

Lord Meino, an older dwarf with grey hair and beard still bickered with King Endrin Aeducan. The King's advisor, Lord Harrowmont, and another Lord, Lord Bemot, were next to him, observing. "My king, please reconsider." Meino pleaded, glancing back at the younger Lord Bemot behind him. "The trade contracts alone could bring great prosperity to our houses."

The younger dwarf, with a full head of brown hair added his voice. "Will we really turn our back on our brothers and a potential fortune in cheap labor because of a political technicality?"

King Endrin frowned. "Denial of the traditions of our people does not qualify as a political technicality." He said sternly. "There is more to life than monetary gains, my lords Bemot and Meino. The Assembly of Kal Sharok will respect the rule of Orzammar, or they will rot and die alone, surrounded by enemies." And by enemies, all knew he meant the darkspawn

Meino sighed and bowed his head. "Yes, my King."

Endrin smiled as he noticed Sereda's approach. "But look, we have company to spare us further wrangling. Atrast vala my sweet daughter. How fine you look in your grandmother's armor. I hear you were declared champion of the Provings!" The older dwarf chuckled. "I suppose you were never one to sit by when something exciting was going on. Are you ready to be presented to the heads of the noble houses?"

Gorim hung back as Sereda approached her father with a soft sigh. "Is this all really necessary Father?"

King Endrin shook his head. "These rituals have their place, Sereda. It behooves you to get to know the nobles and let them know you." He stood and addressed the people congregated in the hall, his voice booming. "Lord, ladies. Grant me a moment of your time. Who would pose a question to the prospective commander? Who seeks to know the prospect better?"

Lord Dace step forward; Sereda felt her muscles tense. "I have a question." Dace began. "I seek to know the prospect better."

King Endrin locked eyes with the speaker. "Lord Dace, head of House Dace, speak."

Dace turned around, addressing the hall. "Lord, ladies my question concerns the plight of our wayward kin, the so-called surface caste." He spoke smoothly and slowly. "What does the commander prospect think is the proper place for these lost souls?"

Sereda looked over the heads of the nobles easily from her elevated place where the throne sat. "They should be respected but no more." She replied as formally as she could.

If the King was surprised by the exchange, he showed no visible signs. "Are you satisfied, Lord Dace? Do you feel you have learned something about the prospect?"

Lord Dace's face was emotionless as well. "Yes, my King" he replied.

Endrin removed his eyes from Lord Dace and gazed back over the nobles. "Then if there are no other challenges…I give you Orzammar's next commander!" Polite claps and cheers echoed through the hall. "Tomorrow, our newest commander will lead part of a mission to strike a great blow to the darkspawn. Not only does this recover access to some of our most important mines, but it also allows our honored guest Duncan and his Grey Wardens to strike far into the Deep Roads.

Duncan stepped forward. "Thank you King Endrin." He turned to the crowd. "While the darkspawn seem to withdraw, it is only because they are massing on the surface. This could mean a Blight and my men and I will discover the truth." He stepped back to a polite clap.

Endrin smiled. "We are honored to have you with us my friend. Now, feast, drink, and celebrate, for the morning brings battle." As the nobles turned their attention to the food, Sereda pulled her father into a quick hug. "Would you tell Trian I need to see him?" Endrin asked as they pulled apart. Sereda nodded. Father and daughter smiled at each other before Sereda turned and walked back to the gathered guests. She caught Lord Dace staring at her and she motioned Gorim to follow her.

If looks could kill, Sereda figured she would be dead, if not grievously injured. "I suppose you're proud of yourself?" Lord Dace quipped.

Sereda struggled to keep her rage from exploding, her voice calm. "Be happy I did not challenge you to a Proving of honor—but I did not think your son should have to die for your arrogance. You underestimated me."

Dace shrugged. "That is the way the games of the Assembly are played. Next time I will think more of you…if you'll excuse me, my lady." He raised his nose and walked out.

Gorim put a hand on her shoulder and motioned out of the room with a tilt of his head. They walked quietly out of the hall. "What did you think of the Grey Wardens?" Gorim whispered as they continued down the corridor to Trian's room.

Sereda smiled. "They seem strong, honorable. Their leader, Duncan….He's a good man, and a strong warrior."

Gorim grinned. "You've always been a good judge of character. Like with Lord Dace…that house has always had high ambitions."

Sereda growled, the memory of the recent event souring her thoughts of the Grey Wardens. "I hate playing politics, but it is the only way to get things done in Orzammar. And I'll need the Assembly's support if I ever become Queen—I want to improve things Gorim." She sighed.

Gorim bit his lip and put his hand on her shoulder—they had agreed however reluctantly that they had to be formal in public, especially in the palace. One of the many kreasons Trian was so confrontational was that he had caught Gorim and Sereda in a passionate embrace.

They walked in to Trian's room—Trian and Bhelen were standing around relaxing. Trian's eyes latched onto his sibling's. "So, you are a commander now. In name at least. Shouldn't you be attending our king father?"

Sereda sighed. "Father wants to see you Trian."

The Heir scoffed. "Of course he does. We must discuss strategy before tomorrow's battle." He turned to his brother quickly before leaving. "Bhelen stay here and stroke the new commander's conceit if you like, but then get to bed." Trian left the room without the two siblings saying more.

Bhelen exhaled in relief as Trian disappeared from sight. "All day I've put up with that. He can really grate on the nerves."

Sereda shrugged—she didn't have the energy or will to cross word with Trian or Bhelen. Mincing words was much more draining than any Proving battle. "Well, he's our elder brother. I suppose it's his right." She said, taking a seat in one of Trian's best chairs. Gorim stood attentively at her side.

Bhelen watched her and then walked over. "Is it also his right to secure his own power at the expense of everyone around him?"

Sereda raised an eyebrow, and Gorim locked his eyes on the youngest Aeducan child. "What are you talking about?" Sereda said sharply.  
Bhelen leaned in closer. "Trian has begun to move against you, Sereda. I never thought his much-proclaimed honor would allow him to actually act on his jealousy." He shook his head. "Big sister, Train is going to try to kill you."

Sereda felt her muscles tense. It couldn't be…"How do you know?" She replied slowly.

Her brother glanced in the direction of the door. "I overheard him giving orders to some of his men, and I was shocked. Then it began to make sense. Trian's decided you're a threat to his taking the throne. Maybe he's right…"

Sereda bit her lip and glanced quickly at Gorim. "Does he seriously see me as a threat?" She couldn't believe she was that favored by the assembly…  
Bhelen nodded. "He fears what you are becoming, in the eyes of the people and the Assembly. Trian's the named prince, but only the Assembly can proclaim a king. It would be unusual for the Assembly to ignore the King's choice, but it does happen."

Gorim muttered beside her. "The founder of House Bemot became a Paragon and king in one move from the Assembly, and he was a commoner."

Bhelen continued. "That was an extraordinary case. But at least a half-dozen times, the Assembly named a lesser family member—or even someone from another house—as king. Twice it was a woman."

Sereda mumbled under her breath. "So Trian thinks the Assembly would prefer me?"

Bhelen nodded. "Look at it from his perspective. You're more personable than he's ever been. You entered the Provings held in your own honor just for glory and to please the crowds. You embarrassed Lord Dace, one of the most powerful houses, in front of the whole assembly. If you win glory against the darkspawn tomorrow, it will only strengthen the case for you as the next heir. Trian fears Father will replace him on the spot. If not, the Assembly will surely turn against him when Father dies." He paused. "You know his pride will never allow him to step aside."

It just didn't seem real. Sereda stared at Bhelen…if she couldn't trust Trian… "What's your angle in this?" She said firmly.

Bhelen again looked at the door. "It seems Trian has shown that brothers can't always be trusted. I am next in line if Trian succeeds in his plot against you. How long do you think I'll live?"

Sereda glanced up at her second. "Gorim, what do you say?"  
Gorim gazed down at her. "Permission to speak freely?"

Sereda smiled. "Of course--as always."

Gorim had become much better at hiding his reactions—facially anyway. "Trian would be a terrible king, but no one wants to say it. He has just enough backing in the Assembly to make it ugly when your father dies, but not enough to become king. Killing him now makes your house stronger now and saves a great deal of bloodshed later."

Sereda sighed and clenched her fist. "I can't….won't fight a brother."

Bhelen frowned and sighed. "You're my elder. I'll respect any decision you make, but please, be careful. I don't want to lose my dearest sister."

Sereda let a half-smile cross her face. "I am glad for your concern, Bhelen…Thank you."

Bhelen bowed. "You're welcome. I'm taking your place as Father's second, so I'll be at hand tomorrow. For now, try to get some sleep."

Gorim bowed to the youngest Aeducan sibling. "May the Paragons smile down on you."

The three exited the eldest brother's room and went their separate ways; Bhelen to his room, and Sereda assumed to spend some time with Rica. The Lady glanced over at her second. Gorim raised his eyebrows. Slowly, she ran a finger along the braided tattoo, highlighted in green blush, on her cheek. With a grin, Gorim followed her as she walked out of the Palace and out of the Diamond Quarter. They stuck to the shadows as they walked to Dust City. Silver exchanged hands, and the two had a room to themselves. It was dusty, ratty...but there was privacy. The Princess tackled her second, placing a solid kiss on his lips as he landed in a dusty heap on the ground. Gorim chuckled as she quickly began to strip his armor. Her mouth never moved from his, even as she removed the last pieces of his mail. A chill went down his back as her cold plate touched his bare skin. Easily, he flipped his Lady onto her back and returned the favor. Soon she was naked before him-a true Paragon of Beauty, outer and inner beauty. Every time they met here, he could never quite believe it. She took over again, standing, and pressing him down, this time on the bed. He ran his hands through her hair as she kissed down his lightly hairy chest. If it was a dream, it was a good one--one he hoped never ended.


	3. Chapter 3

Sereda had ridden Gorim ragged, but despite the discharge of energy she found herself unable to sleep. He was fast asleep in the hard bed. Quietly, she rose, fixed her hair, and equipped her armor before sneaking back into the Palace. Even in her own bed she couldn't sleep--and now she missed the peacefulness of Gorim's arms. Not like she'd ever been able to stay long--they would lie together for a while, but she always had to return to the Palace alone, and before she could be missed. Part of her greatly missed waking up to his face.

The 'morning' came all too quickly. The entire royal family, their squads, and their seconds, along with the Grey Wardens and their newest dwarven recruit had assembled in the deep roads. Lord Harrowmont and King Endrin stood just in front of the entrance to Orzammar. Down the path, towards a lost thaig and more roads into the Deep, stood the Grey Wardens, Trian and his squad, Sereda, Gorim and Bhelen.

Lord Harrowmont spoke first to the group. "Trian and his men will clear the way for the Grey Wardens to descend into the easternmost caverns."

King Endrin nodded, and gazed on his firstborn. "May the Paragons favor you, and the Stone catch you if you fall."

Trian turned to his men and the Wardens, ignoring their new dwarven member. "Come, men, glory awaits!"  
The dwarven squad and the four Grey Wardens moved off, further down the main road before branching off into a cavern that led deeper into the underground. Harrowmont turned to the three youths before him. "Bhelen, you and your men will second the king, clearing the main road."

Bhelen stared his father's advisor down. "Don't you think it looks a little…cowardly to allow these humans to take our place where the fighting is thickest?"

Harrowmont slowly raised his eyebrows. "Are you questioning the battle plan?"

Bhelen's tone was sharp. "Of course not. I'm sure your caution is for the glory of us all."

King Endrin stepped between the two. "Enough Bhelen." He said firmly. "Take your men and make ready. Harrowmont and I need to speak with Sereda."

Bhelen snapped around to face Sereda. "Good luck, my sister." She nodded at him as he and moved to talk with a small squad of men.

Harrowmont motioned for Sereda and Gorim to follow him down the road, past where Trian and his men had diverted into the cavern. "Your father has a special mission for you." He said as they stopped outside another cavern entrance.

King Endrin nodded, and turned to face the entrance. "In the eastern Deep Roads, there is a secret door carved into the stone. The door leads to a thaig abandoned long ago by our ancestors. The darkspawn have made it impossible to reach. Reclaim the shield and glory will be yours!"

Sereda's eyes widened. A shield—the shield of Aeducan perhaps? "What else is in the thaig?" she asked.

Endrin shook his head. "My father's writings speak only of the shield of Aeducan. There may be countless others treasures, but only the shield matters."

Harrowmont continued for the King. "We've sent two scouts ahead to make sure the tunnels are cleared but be careful. One of the scouts will meet you at the first crossroads you come to; the second will be further in. When you get to the door, use your signet ring to open it. Questions?"

Sereda grinned. "Not at all…I'll be back shortly"

A small smile graced Harrowmont's face. " Very good. The crossroads where you meet the first scout will be the rendezvous point. There, you can present the shield to the lords and demonstrate the strength of Aeducan!"

King Endrin bowed before staring into his middle child's eyes. "May the ancestors watch over you my daughter."

The two youths bowed before the King and set off down the road and turned into the tunnel leading to the Lost Aeducan Thaig. Small fires dotted the tunnel's walls, torches Sereda assumed lit by the scouts who had gone before her. Not far in, they came upon giant spiders--in truth no more difficult to dispatch than a moderately trained dwarf. A branch soon occurred in the tunnel, a dead end before her . Suddenly a terrifying low growl squealed from her left. Sereda lifted her shield. Over its rim she saw the shape barreling toward her. Shadows flickered over the monstrous form, only increasing its terrible appearance. Its skin was like blood stained leather, over stretched on a face with two holes for a nose; as it growled again, teeth like daggers snapped at Sereda and she bashed the creature with her shield. It was no larger than herself, its red eyes glowing with malice. The creature attacked as fierce and quick as a dwarven berserker. As it stumbled around, she took the opportunity to decapitate it. The corpse fell headless. Sereda spat. Genlock--the lowest of the darkspawn hierarchy--so the tunnels weren't abandoned by the devils after all.

Dwarven corpses littered the dead ends in the tunnels, and she searched them for any identification. When none could be found, she took whatever lay on them that might be necessary or helpful in her own journey--health poultices especially. There was no crime in it, and she hoped someone would carry on with her equipment after she died--family or not, blood didn't matter as long as they were deserving. Only the left tunnel continued, and she motioned for Gorim to follow. They had only proceeded a short ways into the new tunnel when two more Genlocks rushed around the corner, their mouths slack jawed and drooling. The creatures didn't seem to have any concept of defense, so as long as the two dwarves could avoid the swings, they were easy enough to dispatch. Though she had to admit the creatures' appearance-and stench of decay-- was probably the first obstacle to overcome. After killing the two darkspawn Sereda and Gorim continued down the tunnel, which opened into a large cavern, three branches stretching out to the left. In the center was a small stage with small pillars, to the right of which was a dark-skinned dwarf who seemed very familiar, as did his magnificent helm...

"You made it, Commander." The smooth voice called out as he ran towards them. Suddenly she knew who the dwarf was, Fraundlin Ivo, from the Provings the day before. "Did you run afoul of any darkspawn?" He continued.

Shaking her head, Sereda chuckled. "A few...nothing we couldn't handle."

Ivo seemed nervous as he spoke, glancing quickly around at the adjoining tunnels. "We didn't expect any activity in these tunnels at all." He sighed. "Once I finished scouting the tunnels, I hid here to avoid the darkspawn. Most tunnels are dead ends." Pointing to the closest tunnel, he continued. "The one we want is swarming with those fiends. It's going to be a fight."

The poor warrior seemed ashamed to be hiding in the shadows. Sereda indicated for Gorim to take a place at her side. "Stone met, I'm sure you managed to dispatch a few before you were through. I do believe we fought yesterday in the Proving-- Fraudlin Ivo."

The edges of Fraudlin's wide mouth seem to quiver. "That I was indeed." He bowed his head. " Your gift of the helm was amazingly generously. I will treasure it always. May today's battles bring us even more glory." He drew a sword and shield. "I'll take rear guard. Shall we move?"

After quickly inspecting the farthest tunnel, which quickly ended in a cave-in, she continued to investigate the second. Besides a few deepstalkers--squeaking creatures with a mouth like a leech, the body of a lizard, and which walked up right like a bird. More deadly than a spider, but less deadly than a darkspawn, the biggest danger were the talons on their muscular forearms. Nothing cluttered the short, skinny tunnel than a skeleton, dwarf or darkspawn she couldn't tell, and a crossbow. Quickly grabbing the study weapon, she finally set down the third tunnel. Dimly lit, it soon opened up into another large cavern, half obscured by a large earthen wall. Inhuman growls echoed and Sereda grabbed her sword and shield again after attaching the crossbow to her back.

A small squad of darkspawn poured out from behind the rock formation. All were genlocks, but one seemed to hang back, screaming to the others. An alpha perhaps, she'd heard stories about those, stronger and even more vicious than a grunt. Smashing the nearest grunt with her shield, she ran towards the alpha. Behind her Gorim held the attention of another genlock and the creature his Lady had stunned as he watched. The way she brazenly rushed after danger amazed; maybe it was one of the reasons he loved her. Love remained something he could never quite put his finger on despite all their nights. She easily defeated the beast, but not before he had dispatched his own two, and Fraudlin had taken out an archer. Sereda grinned as she watched the alpha's black blood spill out into the light brown rock floor. A chest lay in the corner; she looted it, finding a few dwarven poultices and some bandages.

Only one tunnel branched and they took it going some distance before arriving at another crossroad. To the left and before them were dead ends containing corpses in varying states of decay. A hiss came from the left entrance and a lone genlock leaped onto her. With a loud clank, her armor deflected the creature's blow, but the force knocked her down, with the darkspawn on top of her. Warm black blood splashed her face, and she saw Gorim as he pulled the corpse off her. Smiling a thank you she again checked the bodies. While she did, a voice called out.

"You're here!" The voice was male, nasally but deep. "I thought the darkspawn had got you for sure." The second scout she didn't know by name--probably a poor soul from the army she would never properly be introduced to. He was clean shaven, pale, and had short auburn hair and freckles.

Glancing back at Ivo and Gorim Sereda chuckled. "I'm not that easy to kill."

The scout practically rolled his eyes as he walked out of the small cave before her. "Then I'll make sure I'm behind you if we're swarmed." He walked towards the right, where the passage continued. "We want the tunnel ahead, but there are darkspawn tracks all over it. Be careful."

With a quick nodded, she added, "Have you seen the thaig door yet?"

The man's round face flubbed as he shook his head. "I haven't ventured more than a hundred yards ahead for fear of alerting other darkspawn. I'll follow your lead Commander." He fell in line behind Fraudlin and Gorim.

The tunnel to the right stretched and curved into the darkness, free of darkspawn or any other creature. Again the tunnel twisted, the bright light from a fire Sereda's ears picked up a growling, grunting she was beginning to become familiar with Quickly she directed the group up against the wall, motioning for the Scout to come closer.

"You have stealth and trap training, correct?" she asked him, watching the entrance with one eye. he nodded, and she smiled. "Good. I believe the darkspawn have some kind of trap set up. I need you to scout ahead and disable any traps you see." She watched him as he stealthed around the corner. Tense minutes passed by as he fumbled around with several contraptions on the ground--claw traps most likely. Finally he came back around the corner. Smiling, she nodded as he whipped out a bow and took his place at the back of the formation. With her sword hand she flicked her fingers towards the opening. Leading the charge, she rushed the opening. Three darkspawn lay in wait--one was a mage. The mage lay a glyph--she could see it glow on the floor. Mages...she'd never encountered a mage before but she knew in battle they were dangerous. And she knew the strategy her father taught her. Always kill the mages first. Gorim knew the strategy as well, and knew as soon as he saw the Lady rush the mage that he needeed to have her back. He motioned for Fraudlin to take the other warrior, as he grabbed the nearest one. The scout was too far behind, so Gorim simply hoped he knew the drill and was targeting the mage with his bow. Again the battle ended quickly. Sereda managed to kill the mage before he inflicted any damage, or had time to recite a decent spell, and Gorim and Fraudlin had taken a similar amount of time with their warriors.

The small cave held various statues of dwarven make in surprisingly excellent condition, despite the darkspawn corruption or embellishment on a few. Sereda knew they were getting closer, and sure enough, the passage out of that cave was like a proper dwarven tunnel, with carved pillars and tiled floors. Soon they approached a door, the thaig door. It was open, and a few darkspawn corpses littering the entryway.

Gorim put a hand on his Lady's shoulder. "Looks like someone beat us to the door." he said softly as they all stopped.

Sereda bit her lip. "They had to have an Aeducan signet ring to get in."

Fraudlin took a place at her side. "It could have been stolen, recently or generations back." He said with a shrug.

The Scout grinned darkly. "Or it could be an ambitious cousin out for his own glory."

The Lady Aeducan sighed--Bhelen's fears were beginning to have some merit. "Let's not do anything rash." She said sternly, without hesitation. "Let's move men."

Fraudlin and Gorim nodded wordlessly beside her and her small squad follow her as she stepped into the thaig.

The thaig was dark; the torches that lit the other halls were absent here, except much farther, where some stone buildings sat beyond a bridge. And in the light, Sereda saw something that made her heart sink. A mercenary squad.

A swarthy man with a large nose, and equally large mustache and proportionately small beard greeted them with a grin. "So glad you could finally join us. We feared you'd gotten eaten by darkspawn. Would have been a shame." He looked Sereda over lewdly. "Turns out the shield isn't quite as easy to retrieve as I was led to believe. I wager you know where it is though. You're a pretty gal, hopefully you're smart too. So maybe you tell me where it is, and I don't let my boys have a go at you before I kill you."

Sereda heard Gorim growl behind her. She kept her hands on her weapons as she spoke. "Who are you? How did you get in here?"

The mercenary scoffed. "I'm your better, that's who. And as to how I got in, that's a question you'll have to ask the Stone after I butcher you. Now, where is the shield?"

The Lady may not have believed in castes, but any man willing to participate in such a back handed exchange was obviously not her better. "Tell me how you got in—I'll tell you where the shield is." As a tactics girl, and not a very persuasive one, she was already taking in the positions of the group's various archers and foot solders.

The crude man laughed. "Bit for bite, eh? Both of us banking on killing the other and losing nothing by the telling?" He sheathed his ax. "Very well. One of Prince Trian's men brought me this ring. It opened the door just fine. Now where is the sodding shield?"

The Princess knew she didn't hide her surprise well; luckily she had bluffed well enough. Being known as a tough warrior could sometimes work in her advantage--that and she didn't do the whole, 'damsel in distress' role very well. "The shield's a metaphor." She replied with a quick smile. "It's in all of us."

The man's large nostrils flared. "Oh, she's a funny one. Just what I needed." He raised his weapons. "Now kill these idiots."

Six archers lined the ruins around the bridge. If there were no mages, then Sereda knew to go for the archers. Archers could be deadly, especially because at this close range anyone without a shield would be hard pressed to deflect an arrow. Using the ruins and her shield as cover, she found her way to the first archer, taking him out before he had time to pull out a melee weapon. As she took cover, looking for a way to find the next archer, she noticed the others had taken cover as well. Good. Holding her shield high, she bolted for the next archer. Arrows whizzed by her head, and one bounced off her shield. After taking cover again she noticed only two mercenary archers remained. If she remembered correctly, there had been two soldiers besides the captain. Only the mercenary captain remained. The other two lay dead, one with an arrow through his neck, the other bleeding from a half-decapitated head. The mercenary captain himself seemed to be making his way through the ruins toward her, and now lay between herself and the archer she had targeted. Biting her lip and raising her eyebrows she moved to battle the arrogant would-be 'assassin' of sorts. As she moved to the man, she saw Gorim move to intercept the archer behind her.

Not surprisingly, the man fought dirty, tripping, throwing dirt, the works. But her superior skill won out in the end, and just as Gorim began heading her way, she pierced his armor, twisting the sword as he fell to the floor. Stepping on the man's chest she drew her sword from the wound and stared at the bodies on the ground. The loss of dwarven life in such a time where every sword was needed was unfortunate. Remembering the man's words, she riffled through his armor, as the others went through the bodies of the others.

After searching the mercenary captain's body, Sereda found a signet ring. As she rolled it in her fingers, she heard Gorim ask softly, "Is that really Trian's signet ring."

She nodded. "It seems so. But this may not mean anything." There was always the option that someone had stolen it from Trian, or that it wasn't even Trian's ring-she could be mistaken.

Her second knelt down beside her. "Or it may be a warning for us to keep our guard up."

The Lady glanced over at him. "Caution is always a good idea."

The warrior nodded. "Agreed. Now, perhaps we should find this shield."

Again Sereda looked around the ruins of the thaig. There were old chests, some still intact. She bade Gorim check the buildings for the one her father described while she checked the chests for anything the darkspawn or the dwarves before them may have left behind, like family heirlooms. Finding nothing, she sighed and walked over to the building Gorim stood silently by with Fraudlin and the Scout.

She opened the door to reveal a simple room; the middle was a raised area, covered in tiles, and in the center lay a sarcophagus, such as the dwarves have always used for their dead.

"This is the room." Gorim said as he stepped in beside her. "How do we get the shield?"

The Lady Aeducan stepped up to the grave. An inscription on the top read that it was the last Aeducan leader to rule before the darkspawn invaded. Her signet ring fit an indent perfectly, but had no effect. "I'll figure it out." She said, not glancing back at her second.

Gorim's voice sounded behind her. "You two, see if you can spot anything." The scuffle of boots on the stone floor echoed as she studied the tiles. Some of them seemed different than the others, lowered slightly. With a wave of her hand, she beckoned Gorim over. Pointing to one of the tiles to her left he walked over and stood. Gears turned as Gorim's weight on the tile changed something in the room-Sereda could not quite be sure of what without more testing. Again she motioned, this time to Frauldin, and the warrior stood on a tile to her right. As the gears ground again, she motioned for the Scout to stand on a tile before her. For a final time, the gears sounded, and as she pressed her signet ring to the indent a soft click echoed. Not removing the ring, she lifted the lid of the sarcophagus. A dwarven skeleton and the reek of death met her, and a shield lay on top of the skeleton. Removing her ring from the indent, she lifted the shield and stepped back. Her men followed her as she walked to the door, huddling around her.

"That's it. We've got it!" Gorim's voice was soft in awe beside her.

Scout stood to her left and scoffed. "It doesn't look like much."

Silence entered for a few seconds, and then Fraudlin Ivo spoke. "The skill of our crafters has come far since then. But still…the Shield of Aeducan."

Sereda nodded, taking in the glory before her. The Aeducan crest emblasoned the front, in the colors of her house, green and blue, as she had always worn on her face in her makeup, and reflected in the pattern of her tattoos. Though she was not proud of the caste system, Sereda was very proud of her heritage. "The strength of Aeducan is in this shield." She said sternly.

"I can feel it." Gorim said, placing a hand hesitantly on the artifact. "It's inspirational."

She saw the Scout shrug and walk away from the group. "If you say so. It's just a shield."

Resisting the urge to slap the Scout, Sereda snapped the shield to her back. We should get moving."

The Scout turned to her. "We need to get to the other rendezvous point. Back in the direction we came from, at the crossroads."

Quickly walking out the door she yelled back at the group. "To the crossroads, men."

For one reason or another, the darkspawn had not swarmed the tunnels they had come through, which was a relief. As Sereda passed the bodies of the mercenaries, she worried. She did not worry about her own safety--she and Gorim could hand any would be assassins. But Father...Trian...Bhelen; she could not believe Trian was the instigator of all this, and if it wasn't from inside the house, then it seemed the Aeducans had made a powerful enemy. Too soon, they came upon the final tunnel before the crossroads where they had met Fraudlin Ivo.  
Gorim put a hand on her should. "If Trian were really scheming against us this would be the perfect place for an ambush." He whispered and lean in closer. "We've got the shield and we're all alone out here."

Sereda nodded with a sigh. "Hope for the best, but keep your wits about you then."

Her replied with a barely recognizable nod, and Sereda heard breathing behind her.

"What's that you're muttering about?" She heard the nasally voice of the Scout mutter.

The Lady cast an icy glare on him. "Family business."

He raised his eyebrows, "Uh-huh. All right then."

A grisly scene greeted them as they rounded the corner. Trian's squad lay in a pile of blood just where she had stood earlier. Sereda's heart stopped--rushing the bodies, she desperately searched for her brother. Soon she found him. Dead, a single wound bled out, his body still warm. She stopped breathing as her chest seized.

"By the Stone, It's Trian." Gorim gasped behind her.

Fraudlin inspected one of the bodies of the soldiers. "It must have been a darkspawn attack."

Sereda checked her brother's body. "This doesn't look like a darkspawn. No bites, no scratches, no mutilation…" She sighed. "We need to warn my father."

Gorim snapped behind her. "Someone's coming!"

Sereda heard the footsteps and muttering even as Gorim spoke. Tears had already begun filling her eyes. Trian may not have been the best brother, especially in recent years, but he was family. She couldn't bring herself to hide behind one of the pillars.

Bhelen's voice was the first she could pick out as the clattering of heavy armor grew louder. "We must hurry before…"

"It's too late" Another voice answered as the sounds stopped suddenly. "She killed Trian!"  
"My daughter." Her father's voice said softly, "Tell me this isn't what it looks like."

Finally she raised her eyes to his. "It's not, Father, I assure you." There was quite a host gathered before her. It seemed Bhelen had set the whole guard in the Deep Roads on her. Lords Harrowmont and Bemot had joined her father and Bhelen, and now stared wide eyed at her.

Bhelen called out quickly. "She killed Trian, just like he said she would!"  
"My lady is innocent!" Gorim growled, taking a stand beside the Lady.

Harrowmont stepped forward, and as he spoke the others of her squad stepped forward as well. "Ser Gorim, your loyalty makes you a useless witness. It falls to others to tell the story. You, scout what happened here?"

"Trian and his men were here early. It seems they'd done battle with the darkspawn. Lady Aeducan came up to them all friendly-like, but when we got close, she ordered us to attack!" He spoke the lie without flinching.

Rage exploded in Sereda's chest--with a quick swing of her blade she severed the Scout's head from his body. "You betraying liar!" A cry went up among the gaurd, and she found herself quickly restrained.

"Hold!" Her father cried out. "I might have done the same if the Scout was lying."  
Harrowmont sighed. "Then we shall discover the truth." He turned to Ivo, who stood unaffected by the death of the Scout. "Ivo you are a good and noble man. Did the scout speak the truth?"

Frauldin's eyes flitted over to Sereda only once. "he…he did my lord. It was terrible. Prince Tiran didn't stand a chance. Afterward, my lady stripped his signet ring."

"You treacherous bastard!" Gorim roared gripping his weapons tightly.  
"Silence Gorim." King Endrin's voice commanded hoarsely. "Do you have anything else to say my daughter?"

Sereda's burning eyes landed first on Fraudlin, then on Bhelen. "I'm innocent, this travesty will not go unpunished."

Endrin sighed. "I want to believe that, I really do."

Harrowmont walked to his king's side. "Bind her." He said to the guards. "She will be judged before the Assembly. To Orzammar." The group moved quickly through the Deep Roads and to Orzammar. As the group entered the gates, Sereda noticed Fraudlin Ivo had quit the scene, and seethed. For all the kindness she'd done to that man. Bhelen must have offered him a handsome bribe. Gorim would not leave her side, until they drug him away. The Lords dumped Sereda unceremoniously in a dungeon before making their way to the Diamond Quarter and the Assembly. Female guards stripped her of her armor and threw raggy clothes at her. Throwing her back against the bars she slowly slid down the bars to the dirty floor. Laying her head on her hands she tried to sleep, to mask the tears that ran unchecked down her checks. Her rage had deserted her in the dark dungeon, left her alone.

She awoke to the batter of footsteps, heavy armor on the dirt floor. The sounds stop, and she raised her head.

Gorim tightly gripped the filthy bars of Sereda's cells. "I…I would have come sooner had they allowed it. How are you?" His voice was soft and shakey--Sereda had never heard him so vulnerable.  
Sereda stood and placed her hands on his. "I was worried for you."

Her lover sighed. "And I for you, my heart. I bring little but bad news though. Bhelen has taken Trian's place in the Assembly. He introduced a motion to condemn you immediately and it easily passed." He paused, his eyes wide and fearful. "He…had fully half the assembly ready to vote on something completely against tradition and justice! He must have been making deals and alliances for months, if not years."

"I'm going to kill him." Sereda growled, her anger returning and she squeezed Gorim's hands tighter.

Gorim knew the look on Sereda's face--the anger inside her was like a volcano. As bleak as things looked, he didn't want to be Bhelen. That was...if...he pressed his lips together. "I don't know that you'll get that chance. The Assembly has already sentenced both of us."

The Lady Aeducan lowered one of her hands, pressing her nails firmly into her palm. "What will happen to you?"

The warrior lowered his head. "My knighthood will be stripped, my name torn from my family records…but I will be allowed to attempt some sort of life on the surface. Lord Harrowmont moved for a similar exile for you, but Bhelen's supporters overwhelmed him. You're to be sealed in the Deep Roads to fight darkspawn until you are overwhelmed and killed."

Sereda closed her eyes. "What does my father say about this?"

"Lord Harrowmont says the king has taken ill." Gorim shook his head. "He couldn't bear losing two of his children at once." Finally he looked up, deep into her eyes in the dim light. "Lord Harrowmont gave me access to see you so I could tell you this: Duncan and the Grey Wardens are still in the Deep Roads, in tunnels connected to those you are to be left in. If you survive long enough to find the Grey Wardens, you may be able to escape with Duncan." Those grey eyes sparkled with hope in the dim torchlight and Gorim continued. "There are worse ways for a warrior to live than fighting the darkspawn with such allies. If you can find them I'm sure you can join them and escape the Deep Roads."

Though her palm now bleed, she put her hand back on Gorim's. "I will, my love, I swear it, so I can take my justice on Bhelen for Trian and for you…"

Gorim gripped her hands. "I begged to go with you and fight at your side, but Bhelen's pet nobles wouldn't hear of it."

"I wish you were going to be at my side as well." She whispered, pressing her face closer against the bars.

He leaned in, smelling her one last time. "I'm going to try to go to Denerim, the human capital. If you make it out, find me." He moved to go.

"Wait, please."

The warrior wasn't sure he'd even heard that tone, like a baby nug after its mother, come from his lover's strong lips. "We have no time my heart."

"Just hold me one more time." Tears welled in Sereda's eyes, despite her best efforts to hold them in.

"The guards won't keep quiet about something like that. Your family will know…"

She chuckled bitterly, furiously blinking her eyes. "Who cares what people think now? We no longer exist, remember?"  
A soft smile appear on Gorim's lips. "As you say, my dearest one." He cupped her face through the bars, laying a long kiss on Sereda's own lips. Holding her hands one last time for moments, he sighed. "I must go now." As he released her, he added. "I will always love you my lady."

Not seconds after Gorim had disappeared from her sight did the Guard-a fat man with beady eyes, walk over sneering. "They are ready for you now."

Sereda's eyes were dry and she held her head high as the guard led her down to the entrance to the Deep Roads. Lord Harrowmont, dressed in the same attire from the raid stood outside a heavy door. The Guard shoved her roughly toward him.

Harrowmont's voice was gruff, almost as if he had something caught in his throat. "Having been found guilty of fratricide by the assembly of Orzammar, you are hereby sentenced to exile and death. Your name is, from this point forward, stripped from the records. You are no longer a person, nor a memory. You are to be cast into the Deep Roads with only sword and shield, there to redeem your life by fighting the enemies of Orzammar until your death. Do you have anything to say before the sentence is carried out?"  
The Exile stared in his eyes. "I'm innocent"

"I want to believe that. Look me in the eye and tell me you didn't do this. For your father's sake."

She didn't blink. "I didn't kill Trian."

The Deshyer lowered his gaze. "I believe you. That means Bhelen planned this from the start." He growled a scoff. "Believe me, I will spend the rest of my days making sure Bhelen does not profit by his deeds." He took a sword and shield from the ground beside him. "Your father asked me to give these to you. This sword and shield are of fine dwarven make. Strike a blow at our enemies."

Sereda nodded, taking the weapons in hand. "Tell my father I'm innocent--I will survive to meat out justice. I swear by the Ancestors."

His eyes glowed as he nodded. "I will. Open the doors and let the condemned walk through. May the Stone accept you when you fall." The Guard opened the door and pushed her roughly inside. Without looking back she walked forward into the dark of the Deep Roads as the door thudded closed behind her.

There were no darkspawn in the initial tunnel. She walked the tiled passage, looking for the nearest tunnel. For now, she was looking for the closest one with known surface access. Darkspawn corpses would also be a good indication of the Warden's passage through the area. On a whim, she took a passage to the left. Some ways in she found some dwarven corpses, and looted them for their rusting armor. At one time likely premium equipment, but after years in the Deeps and after whatever scuffle killed the former owner, it was rough at best. A few darkspawn awaited in the first small tunnel, but she dispatched them easily enough. Another tunnel held a few more of the creatures, still nothing more dangerous than a genlock grunt. For that, Sereda thanked the ancestor. This tunnel wound on for a long time, and the next passage held perhaps hours old darkspawn corpses. The warrior smiled--fighting after barely sleeping on a prison floor for a few hours was much harder than fighting after a rest in her feather bed. Following the trail of corpses, she fought off fatigue to find the means to vengence.

The clanking armor made the small band of Wardens turn around, weapons drawn anticipating battle. Sereda met their gaze with her chin held high, weapons low. Wylan tensed as he saw Sereda approach. He knew her by sight—barely. The Lady Aeducan had been vocal about ridding the dwarves of the caste system, or at the very least, making them less rigid, and allowing the casteless to prove themselves in battle if nothing else. Some of the casteless thought it was simply another play for power, that it would never happen. She was a bit of a hero to the rest—some even had faded pictures or carvings of her stolen from the Diamond Quarter. It was the tattoos, coupled with the remnants of the vibrant make-up, visible even under the layers of black darkspawn blood and dust. He'd know those anywhere.

Duncan was the first to speak. "Lady Aeducan!" he called out, his face long with surprise. "What are you doing here alone? Where are your troops?"

Sereda lowered her eyes, but not her chin. "I am Lady Aeducan no longer."

"Ah." Duncan nodded slowly. You have been made to walk the Deep Roads then."

Wylan could not keep from asking. "_You_ were exiled...what happened?"

Duncan turned to the dwarf. "I do not think matters of dwarven honor are any business of ours, Recruit. You need not answer friend."

The Lady's eyes quickly landed on her fellow dwarf. "I was betrayed by my brother."

Duncan's eyebrow raised. "Lord Trian?"

The exile shook her head. "No, Bhelen. Trian is…" she bit her lip. "dead."

Duncan sighed. "I see. The brutal intrigue of the dwarven court continues, then. Your father intimated as much. There is no reason for you to walk these Deep Roads and die for something you did not do. You have already proven yourself both resourceful and skilled, and I would expect nothing less from an Aeducan." He paused. "When last we spoke you told me you wished to join our order. I imagine this isn't quite what you meant, but you may still find great honor here. As leader of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden, I would like to formally invite you to join our order."

A soft smile appeared on Sereda's face. "I would be honored."

Smiling as well, Duncan bowed. "Then welcome. We leave immediately for the Circle of Magi. We have found no solid evidence that there is a Blight, but my fears are solidified. Stay close. There are still darkspawn around every corner."

Wylan ducked his head as Sereda joined the group—but she immediately approached him. "Hello," she said with a smile, extending her hand. Warily, he shook it. "I have to ask," she continued as the group continued to walk through the Deep Roads. "Are you the casteless that took part in the Provings?"

The rogue paused, then took the leap. "Yes," He said with a brush of his hand. "But I'm not sure if it's as glorious and daring as you think." They were making their way towards the surface using the mining tunnels, and Wylan used a lull in fighting to tell the Lady—Sereda, he reminded himself she had no place, much like himself—of Beraht, Rica, and the Proving. "So you see…" he finished, but she interrupted him.

"Stop being modest." She laughed and clapped him on the back. "You beat those stuffy nobles at their own game. We will have to spar later." Wylan only blinked, then smiled and bowed his head, hiding his blush. They walked a ways in silence when Sereda spoke again. "You said your sister's name was Rica right? Red hair? Well, I just wanted to let you know…that man she's seeing. It's my brother Bhelen." She paused again, letting the information sink in. "I'm sorry." She added finally.

Wylan shrugged, setting his jaw. "Rica's a bright girl. If nothing else, she'll keep herself useful to him."

Sereda nodded, and walked off to chat up another of the Grey Wardens. Soon they were out of the dark, into the light. Though the sun was setting, the two dwarves blinked, and Sereda pulled Duncan aside. "Can you give the two of us a moment?" She asked. "It's our first time on the surface…our first time without some kind of roof over our heads…"

Duncan nodded. "Of course." He motioned to the other Grey Wardens to sit and rest. "In fact, I will use this time to tell you a bit about the Circle of Magi, and how humans in Ferelden view magic. I assume dwarves do not know much of magic, correct?"

Sereda and Wylan shook their heads—dwarves constant presence around lyrium made them immune to the effects, and unable to possess magical abilities. They did not even enter the Fade when they dreamt.

Duncan motioned for them to sit and began the long, complicated explanation.


	4. Chapter 4

Inside the tower of the Circle of Magi, the tight knit community of mages buzzed as they went about their duties, classes and or studies. In the peak of the tower, the most important ceremony of a mage's life was beginning. The Harrowing—an apprentice either became a mage or died. Needless to say, the templars who guarded the mages were on edge, especially those now occupying the Harrowing chamber. Only six people occupied the room. The First Enchanter, the head of the Circle, who would be conducting the test, the apprentice being tested, and four templars—including the Knight-Commander Greagoir, the head of the templars. In the center of the dimly lit room was a small glowing basin on an elevated pedestal. The apprentice, a tall, dark man with soot black hair entered with one of the templars, a small pale man with curly red hair, known simply as Cullen. The air sparked with the energy from the tension between the distinct personalities in the room. The apprentice seemed more fit to be a warrior than a mage—built like a prized mabari war hound, with an extremely handsome square face. Gaden preferred his books to battle nonetheless. Nervous but confident, he stepped to First Enchanter Irving's side.

"Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him." The knight commander spoke sternly, reciting the basics of the Chant of Light concerning the 'curse' of magic. "Thus spoke the prophet Andraste as she cast down the Tevinter Imperium, ruled by mages who had brought the world to the edge of ruin. Your magic is a gift, but it is also a curse, for demons of the dream realm—the Fade—are drawn to you, and seek to use you as a gateway into this world.

The First enchanter spoke up beside him, speaking in a slow deliberate way as he always did. "This is why the Harrowing exists. The ritual sends you into the Fade, and there you will face a demon, armed with only your will."

Gaden nodded. "I am ready."

Greagoir stared the apprentice down. "Know this, apprentice: if you fail, we templars will perform our duty. You will die."

Gaden dipped his hand into the liquid glowing on the pedestal. It seemed to stick to his hands—not like a liquid at all. Next he knew, he was in the Fade. At least he assumed it was the Fade. It was ominous for sure—everything was hazy, twisted and lifeless, though the Fade had its own trees and grasses. Strange, rather gruesome statues and ancient, crumbled ruins littered the area. He was unarmed—the staff he had carried into the Harrowing, had not transferred with his consciousness into the Fade. Luckily, he had specialized in Primal spells, those of the elements, so he was not defenseless, and he had a few healing spells up his sleeve. Like many a mage, he had trained his whole life, since being brought to the tower at age five, for this day. Taking a deep breath, he followed the only path before him. The ground ended in nothing wherever the path wasn't, sometimes he thought he could see other 'island' like areas if he looked over an edge hard enough. Soon his attention was caught by a small voice by his feet. There on the brown ground was an equally brown field mouse. Talking.

"Someone else thrown to the wolves." It muttered bitterly. "As fresh and unprepared as ever. It isn't right that they do this, the templars. Not to you, me, anyone."

Gaden knitted his eyebrows. "What else can they do…besides…you're a talking rat. What type of spirit are you?"

"You think you're really here? In that body?" The mouse scoffed, and Gaden knew from his reading what the small creature was saying. "You look like that because you think you do!" he sighed. "It's always the same. But it's not your fault. You're in the same boat I was, aren't you?" Suddenly a man was standing before him exactly where the mouse had been. The man shook his shaggy red-haired head. "Allow me to welcome you to the Fade. You can call me…well, Mouse."

Gaden raised his right eyebrow. "What sort of spirit are you? You can change shape?"

The man shrugged—Gaden noticed he was wearing apprentice robes exactly like his. "Like I said, in this place, you are what you perceive yourself to be. I think I used to be like you…before. The templars kill you if you take too long you see. They figure you failed, and they don't want something getting out. That's what they did to me, I think. I have no body to reclaim. And you don't have much time before you end up the same."

The dark man frowned. Greagoir and the templars had seemed quite forward about the Harrowing once he started the ritual, but they had said nothing about a time limit. "I'm sorry for what happened." He said finally. Which was the truth—he thought those who didn't pass their Harrowing were probably better off having gone through the Rite of Tranquility. Though most wouldn't know until after they failed, and by then it was too late.

Mouse sighed. "Don't waste time with that talk. You don't want to end up like…this. There's something here, contained, just for an apprentice like you. You have to face the creature, a demon and resist it, if you can. That's your way out. Or your opponent's if the templars wouldn't kill you. A test for you, a tease for the creatures of the Fade."

Gaden gazed off into the distance. "Killing is for warriors—anything can die. I doubt it's as simple as that."

Mouse laughed blackly. "You would be a fool to just attack everything you see. What you face is powerful, cunning. There are others here, other spirits. They will tell you more, maybe help. If you can believe anything you see." He paused and glanced around the Fade. "I'll follow, if that's all right. My chance was long ago, but you…you may have a way out." He changed back into mouse form and fell in at Gaden's side. Farther up the path was a circular area. "There...there is where the demon is." The small spirit seemed to shake even mentioning the creature.

Gaden nodded. "We'll avoid it for now." He muttered. The path continued and soon on the left there was an armored man--who looked much like a templar--surrounded by multitudes of weapons. Mouse muttered as Gaden approached, but the mage didn't need the spirit's advice. From books, he knew of a little of such spirits, enough to know he wouldn't come to harm immediately.

The Spirit saw him approach and mused in a deep smooth voice. "Another mortal thrown into the flames and left to burn I see." He scoffed. "Your mages have devised a cowardly test. Better you were pitted against each other to prove your mettle with skill than to be sent unarmed against a demon."

Gaden shook his head. "I am not unarmed—I have my spells and my wits. I don't believe purely battling the demon is the true test anyway."

The spirit shrugged. "They would have you battle a demon. With magic or weapon, to be the victor makes you a warrior still. That you remain means you have not yet defeated your hunter. I wish you a glorious battle to come."

"What kind of spirit are you?" Gaden asked. He was always eager to learn, and he had an idea of how to get help from this man.

The armored figure bowed stiffly. "I am Valor, a warrior spirit. I hone my weapons in search of the perfect expression of combat."

"Did you create all these weapons?" Gaden motioned to the weapons as he spoke.

Valor nodded. "They were brought into being by my will. I understand that in your world, mages are the only ones who can will things into being. Those mortals who cannot must lead such hollow empty lives."

"Would one of these weapons affect the demon?"

Gaden could almost hear Valor smile under his helmet. "Without a doubt. In this realm, everything that exists is the expression of a thought. Do you think these blades be steel? The staves be wood? Do you believe they draw blood? A weapon is a single need for battle, and my will makes that need a reality. Do you truly desire one of my weapons? I will give one to you…if you agree to duel me, first. Valor shall test your mettle as it should be tested."

The young mage thought for a moment. The average mage would have difficulty not being stuck down instantly by an armored and armed opponent, but Gaden didn't exactly figure himself average-not to be arrogant, but he was one of the youngest to have a Harrowing. "I agree to your duel Valor."

" As you wish mortal." Valor's reply was grave. "We battle until I am convinced you are strong enough to defeat your demon. If you do not convince me I will slay you. Are these rules understood?"

Gaden nodded. "Yes, I understand."

"Our duel begins now. Fight with Valor"

As the warrior drew his blade, Gaden froze him with a cone of cold spell. Quickly, he ran to attain a safe distance and began casting spells. Fireballs, bursts of electricity and arcane bolts flew at the frozen opponent. Valor soon defrosted and held his hands in the air.

" Enough. Your strength is sufficient to the task. The staff is yours."

Gaden bowed. "Thank you." He knew the staff would not stay with him out of the Fade, but it would be infinitely useful for the moment. It felt wonderful in his hands, and he could feel its magic empowering his spells.

Valor returned his gesture. "May you find glory in all your achievements mortal."

Gaden was tempted to turn around and fight the demon, but his curiosity got the better of him as he looked down the continuing path. He hadn't gone four paces before a bark sounded, answered by a howl and another bark. Before him were three spirit wolves, silver and luminescent. Mouse ran for cover and Gaden used a winter's grasp on the first, lightning bolt on the second, and arcane missile on the third. Such spirits could have done serious damage, as pretty as they looked. Surprisingly they were much weaker than he had assumed they would be. The path soon dead ended. A strange beast lay, seemingly asleep at the end. From the rust colored fur, and the back spines, it seemed to be a bereskarn--a Blight corrupted bear. Mouse bristled beside him.

"Another powerful spirit. Dangerous...I wouldn't advise talking to him. He probably won't help us anyway."

The bear lifted his head and spoke, a gruff, slow tone. "Hmm…so you are the mortal being hunted? And the small one…is he to be a snack for me?"

"I don't like this. He's not going to help us. We should go…" Mouse shivered again as he spoke.

The creature seemed to speak as if it were half-asleep. "No matter." It sniffed. "The demon will get you eventually and perhaps there will even be scraps."

Gaden was suspicious. "What kind of spirit are you?"  
Mouse squeaked as he took a human form. "It's a demon. Maybe even more powerful than the one chasing after you."

The demon growled but did not stand. "Begone! Surely you have better things to do than bother Sloth, mortal. I tire of you already."

Gaden raised an eyebrow. Sloth demons were the third most power demon of the fade--and yet this one was not attacking him. "Why are you called Sloth?" he asked quickly. "Are you a Sloth Demon?"  
Sloth rolled his head. "I am a spirit of Sloth, a creature of the Fade…unlike yourself. Mortals are ever the visitors here. Still you serve your function. Only the mortals like yourself are truly annoying."

Gaden smirked. " You mean mages?"  
Sloth blinked in response. "You are…aware. A mortal with power and will. The sort of creature that some spirits…hunger for. I might be inclined for such a meal, myself. It would be interesting to see the mortal world through your eyes, live inside your form…but I am disinclined to begin such a struggle."

"So you _are_ a demon."

Sloth seemed to shrug, but he didn't move. "As you mortals might term it. But not all demons are _demons_. Worry about the one hunting you."

"I need help defeating that demon."

"You have a very nice staff." Sloth yawned, showing his sharp teeth. "Why would you need me? Go, use your weapon since you have earned it. Be _valorous_."

Mouse piped up beside Gaden. "He looks powerful. It might be possible that he could…teach you to be like him."

Sloth scoffed, his eyes flitting to Mouse. "Like me? You mean teach the mortal to take this form? Why? Most mortals are too attached to their forms to learn the change. You, on the other hand, little one, might be a better student. You let go of the human form years ago."

Mouse hunched, trying to make himself smaller. "I…don't think I'd make a very good bear. How would I hide?"

Gaden stared at him. "Hiding doesn't solve anything. We need to face our fears."

" 'We'?" Mouse gawked. "I have faced more in this place than you can imagine. Fear is…just one more thing." He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "But…you are right. Hiding doesn't help. I'm sorry, it's the Fade. It changes you. I'll try. I'll try to be a bear. If you'll teach me."

Sloth snorted. "That's nice. But teaching is _so_ exhausting. Away with you now."

Mouse lowered his head with another sigh. "I told you he wasn't going to help us."

Gaden stared the sloth demon down. "Mouse wants to learn. Teach him."

Again the demon moved his head. "You wish to learn my form, little one? Then I have a challenge for your friend: Answer three riddles correctly, and I will teach you. Fail, and I will devour you both. The decision is yours."

Gaden smiled. Riddles were child's play. "I accept your challenge, Sloth."

For once the demon sounded intrigued. "Truly? This gets more and more promising. My first riddle is this: I have seas with no water, coasts with no sand, towns without people, mountains without land. What am I?"

"A map."

"Hmph, correct. Let's move on. The second riddle: I'm rarely touched, but often held. If you have wit, you'll use me well. What am I?"

"My tongue."

Sloth seemed to sigh. "Yes, your witty tongue. Fair enough. One more try, shall we? Often will I spin a tale, never will I charge a fee. I'll amuse you an entire eve, but, alas you won't remember me. What am I?"  
Gaden tilted his head—the answer was obvious, but…"A dream?" Mages always remembered their dreams…or at least he always had.

Sloth snorted. "You are correct. Rather apropos here in the Fade, no? But you're won my challenge and proven yourself and amusing distraction. So, I shall teach you my form. Now listen carefully..."

He took Mouse to his side, and soon the mouse looked like a small black bear. "Like this? Am I a bear? It feels…heavy."

"Hm…close enough." Sloth mused. "Go, then and defeat your demon…or whatever you intend to do. I grow weary of your mortal prattling."

The two walked a short distance away from the perpetually sleeping demon. As a bear, Mouse's shoulders were level with Gaden's head, and his tenor voice sounded out of place coming from such a strong creature. "I've never felt this way before. It's…strange." He started staring down as his paws.

"How have you survived this long?" Gaden asked.

Mouse's now yellow eyes turned to him. "I missed my chance, so I became small. Unnoticeable. I hide from the bigger things, learn from the smaller things." His voice softened, almost fearful. "There are places you can hide where the shadows go on forever. You stay there long enough, and the shadows begin to creep inside of you." A silent sigh baited the silence. "I…don't know how long it's been. Forever, maybe."

Gaden put a hand on Mouse's flank, and motioned for him to follow. More wolves attacked, four this time and with Mouse's help and the new staff they were easily dispersed. All too soon they were back at the small arena-like area Mouse where had mentioned the demon lay in waiting.

A creature that appeared to be made of liquid fire grew out from the ground. Its arms practically dragged the ground, and its small eyes glowed. "And so it comes to me at last." The unnatural voice laughed, swinging its arms. "Soon I shall see the land of the living with your eyes, creature. You shall be mine, body and soul."

"If I lose, the templars will still cut you down." Gaden spoke strongly, and gripped his staff tightly.

Again the male-sounding spirit chuckled--Gaden found himself trying to find out which type of demon they had pitted him against. "They are welcome to try." A rage demon perhaps...it turned to Mouse. "So this creature is your offering, Mouse? Another plaything, as per our arrangement?"

No longer a bear, Mouse spoke to the demon in his human form. "I'm not offering you anything! I don't have to help you anymore!"  
If the demon had had a mouth, Gaden had the feeling it would have been smirking. "Awww. And After all those wonderful meals we have shared? Now suddenly the mouse has changed the rules."

Mouse almost seemed to growl himself. "I'm not a mouse now! And soon I won't have to hide! I don't need to bargain with you!"  
The demon turned back to Gaden. "We shall see…"

As it began to slide across to Gaden, Mouse turned into a bear and drew its attention. Gaden blasted it with a Winter's Grasp spell and chuckled. Being a creature of fire, the demon was no doubt weak to cold, and as he soon saw, fell quickly after a few of the choice spells the mage kept in his repertoire. At times like this he was very glad to have specialized in elemental spells.

Mouse changed back into his human form, a smile plastered wide on his face. "You did it." He half-whispered. "You actually did it! When you came, I hoped that maybe you might be able to…but I never really thought any of you were worthy."

Gaden was not as cheerful. "The ones you betrayed before, what were their names?" He would not take his eyes from the man.  
Mouse blinked at him. "What?" He paused and waved his hand. "They were not as promising as you. It was a long time ago. I…I don't remember their names. I don't even remember my own name. It's the Fade, and the templars killing me, like they tried with you." He stuttered, tripping over his words, and talked loudly.

The mage was not satisfied. "The templar's haven't tried to kill me yet…but I don't understand why I'm still here."

"You defeated a demon, you completed your test." Mouse shrugged, and as he talked his voice softened, smoothened. "With time you will be a master enchanter with no equal. And maybe there's hope in that for someone as small and as…forgotten as me. If you want to help. There may be a way for me to leave here, to get a foothold outside. You just need to want to let me in."

Gaden raised his right eyebrow; Now that sounded like a plea to become an abomination if he ever heard one. "I'm starting to believe the other demon wasn't my test."

The other man gawked. "What? What are you…Of course it was! What else is here that could harm an apprentice of your potential?!" Obviously the ex-apprentice was agitated. Gaden simply glared. Mouse's body began to glow, and his voice grew deeper, stranger. He chuckled as his true form was revealed. "You are a smart one. Simple killing is a warrior's job. The real dangers of the Fade are preconceptions, careless trust…pride.

Mouse had been a pride demon--the strongest of all demons in the Fade. They were truly gruesome creatures, Gaden thought as he gazed upon the demon. Large spikes rose from the elbows of the best, and the demon was twice as tall as he was. His scaly skin was maroon tinged, with small eyes, numerous horns on his head and other places on his body. Worst he had these dark beady eyes.

* * *

"Are you all right?" Blackness cleared to reveal the sight Gaden had seen every morning for the past fifteen years. And the voice speaking was just as familiar. "Say something please…"

Gaden held his head as he sat up in his bed, and turned to the pale man who had become his best friend in his years at the Tower. "Jowan?"  
Jowan brushed a lock of his dark hair out of his face. "I'm glad you're all right. They carried you in this morning. I didn't even realize you'd been gone all night. I've heard about apprentices who never come back from Harrowing. What's it like?"

"We're good friends, but don't ask this." The younger man shook his dark head. "You know I can't tell you. It's forbidden."

"Hmph…so much for friendship." The older apprentice's wide mouth frowned. "I'll leave you alone then." He sighed loudly, folding his arms across his chest. "And now you get to move to the nice mage's quarters upstairs. I'm stuck here and I don't know when they'll call me for _my_ Harrowing."

The darker man's hand rested on his shorter friend's shoulder. "They'll summon you to the test when you're ready friend."

"I've been here longer than you have," Jowan snapped brushing Gaden's hand off him. "Sometimes I think they just don't want to test me."

Gaden sighed. Jowan was a flighty man, but willing to go through questionable pain to get the results he wanted. "You can't believe they'd make you tranquil do you?"

The apprentice shrugged. "You do the Harrowing, the Rite of Tranquility or you die. That's what happens."

"They're not going to kill you Jowan, unless you give them a damn good reason."

His old friend glanced away. "They might not. But the Rite of Tranquility is just as bad…maybe worse." He was babbling now, wringing his hands. "You've seen the Tranquil around the tower. Like Owarin who runs the stockroom. He's so cold. No, not even cold. There's just…nothing in him. It's like he's dead, but still walking. His voice, his eyes are lifeless…being cut off from the Fade…losing your magic, your dreams…your emotions."

"I doubt they'd force tranquility on you Jowan." Gaden knew his friend was hesistant to be sure, but his paranoia was worse than usual. He just wished he could put his finger on it—he had always been terrible at reading people. He'd read about the signs…but often people didn't fall into the 'normal' patterns of anything. But the Circle only forced tranquility on the weak or those who practiced blood magic, forbidden magic.

Again Jowan shifted, Gaden assumed nervously. "I shouldn't waste your time with this. I was supposed to tell you to see Irving as soon as you woke up."

Gaden nodded. "We'll talk after okay?" He gave his friend a quick hug. "Don't worry about it. Relax"

Jowan sighed. "You'd better not keep the First Enchanter waiting. We can speak later." He didn't wait until Gaden left to begin rummaging around in his chest, at the foot of their bunked beds.

Just outside the male apprentice quarters, a templar in his massive armor stood watch. Each of the dormitories, one for the males, and one for the females, were large and very impersonal, with all the beds exposed in a single open space. Only the lavatories were enclosed on the sides of the rectangular rooms. And outside each stood one templar in their cross adorned armor and trademark sash. Most apprentices felt like the tower was a prison. At this point in his life, Gaden had to agree with them, as he walked up the different 3 different stairs and through various corridors to the First Enchanter's Office.

Magic was dangerous--there was no directing most spells to just hurt an enemy. If a fellow was caught in the middle of, say, a fire blast spell, he burned along with whatever the target. Single target spells could be controlled and directed, in trained hands, and some magic was beneficial, like heal, revival, and rejuvenation spells. But the spells themselves were not the only danger...another danger came from the way mages received their power, and sometimes their knowledge. All mages were born with the ability to manipulate lyrium and energy. However, there were two main ways to increase a mage's power, besides mundane studying of spells. One was to deal with demons, becoming an abomination. Little was known about the nature of abominations, except that most are dangerous. The Chantry ordered all abominations killed, whenever they arose, but from all print sources none of the original mage remained in this existence. The demon controlled the mage and augmented his power, keeping the mages consciousness trapped in the Fade. Just as feared a way to gain power was blood magic--the use of life force to power spells. Though a mage could use his own blood for most minor spells, most blood mages were despised because they used the blood of others, often killing them. Especially for the stronger spells...blood magic was also rumored to corrupt the user, but no one in the tower knew for sure.

Such as the dangers were, of either turning to blood magic or being seduced by a demon, many mages wanted to pull away from the Circle--and mages different philosophies caused as much drama as Gaden had read about in any spicy fiction novel. Many wanted freedom to do as they willed-Libertarians-some wanted more adherence to a moral code-Aequitarians, some were preached loyalty to the chantry-Loyalists. Such fraternities caused frequent strife in the circle, but so far had caused no real trouble. Gaden happened to agree with the Aequitarians-the most moderate of the five different groups. With all the dangers to both themselves and others, mages needed to be watched, needed rules. But the Chantry spread a hatred of magic--many mages even prayed for the removal of their 'curse' of magic. From his many years at the Tower, Gaden believed the Circle could regulate its mages without the disapproving eye of the Chantry. And, if let into the world for once, do a whole host of good for Ferelden. Most of the world loathed mages, feared magic, and the Chantry's propaganda did not help the mages reputation, nor did the actions of selfish, rogue mages.

Outside the First Enchanter's room, he noticed one of the templars who had been at his Harrowing...the youngest one...Cullen. His eyes were blood shot and his face pale. Gaden placed a hand softly on his shoulder. "Hey Cullen, are you doing alright?"

The templar wiped his brow. "F-fine," he stuttered. "Yours was my first Harrowing. I'm just glad nothing went wrong."

The new mage gave the templar a soft smile. "I'm sure you would have been able to act if Greagoir had given the word."

Cullen bit his lips. "I don't know. Maybe I'm not cut out to be a templar..."

Gaden patted his shoulder. "If this is what you want, I'm sure you will do fine." He smiled and entered First Enchanter Irving's room. Greagoir, Irving, and a handsome dark-skinned man with a single golden earring stood close together, talking in hushed tense voices.

"Many have already gone to Ostagar—Wynne, Uldred, and most of the senior mages!" Greagoir growled. "We've committed enough of our own to this war effort…"

Irving chuckled. "Your Own?" He turned to the templar. "Since when have you felt such kinship with the mages, Greagoir? Or are you afraid to let the mages out from under Chantry supervision, where they can actually use their Maker-given powers?"  
The dark skinned man stepped between the squabbling men. "Gentlemen, please. Irving, someone is here to see you." He gestured toward Gaden with a small smile.

Gaden bowed as the three turned to meet him. "You sent for me?"

The First Enchanter's smile widened stepping closer to Gaden. "Ah, if it isn't our new brother in the Circle. Come, Gaden."

Gaden could see the stranger was armed as he walked over, wearing rather fashionable variation on templar armor, but lighter based. "This is…?" He said, glancing quizzically over at Gaden.

The older man nodded quickly. "Yes, this is he."

Greagoir sighed heavily. "Well, Irving, you're obviously busy. We will discuss this later." He swiftly exited without looking back.

"Of course." Irving replied watching the warrior speed out. "Well, then…where was I? Oh, yes. This is Duncan, of the Grey Wardens."

The newest mage bowed. "Honored to meet you."  
Irving turned his eyes to the newest member of the circle. "You've heard about the war brewing to the south, I expect? Duncan is recruiting mages to join the king's army at Ostagar."

Gaden simply nodded at first, and then he smiled. "Truly? I would be honored to defend Ferelden."

Duncan stepped with the darkspawn invading, we need all the help we can get, especially from the Circle.

Again Gaden nodded; mages were an asset to any fighting force, and would be especially efficient against a large, mindless horde. And of course, any such war gave mages a chance to disprove their reputation.

The dark warrior continued. "I fear if we don't drive them back, we may see another Blight."

The First Enchanter shook his head. "Duncan you worry the poor lad with talk of Blights and darkspawn. This is a happy day for him."

The Grey Warder leader shook his head. "We live in troubled times, my friend." Actually, he was judging the new mage's reaction.

Irving stared at Duncan. "We should seize moments of levity, _especially_ in troubled times. The Harrowing is behind you. Your phylactery was sent to Denerim. You are officially a mage within the Circle of Magi."

Gaden nodded reverently. "Thank you, First Enchanter."

Duncan's eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry—what is this phylactery?" The Grey Warden knew little of how the Tower functioned. It had been many years since he visited, and the Circle nor the Chantry had cared to share any details of a mage's life.

Irving waved his hand. "Blood is taken from all apprentices when they first come to the tower and is preserved in special vials."

Duncan frowned. "So they can be hunted if they turn apostate—so that's how it works." He muttered. It sounded like blood magic--the Chantry was employing the very magic it abhorred. Interesting.

Irving sighed, looking more ancient than before. "We have few choices. The gift of magic is looked upon with suspicion and fear. We must prove we are strong enough to handle our power responsibly." He turned to Gaden with a smile. "You have done this. I present you with your robes, your staff, and a ring bearing the Circle's insignia. Wear them proudly, for you have earned them."

Gaden smiled softly. "Thank you." He took the blue robe and the lightly glowing steel staff, before slipping the ring on his pinky--the only one of his large fingers it fit. Though he could tell it was enchanted, it was obviously not enchanted to fit any hand. Carefully he tossed the robe over his shoulder and took his new staff in hand.

The First Enchanter continued. "It goes without saying that you shall not discuss the Harrowing with those who have not undergone the rite. Now, then…take your time to rest or study in the library. The day is yours."

The book worm shook his head. "I'd prefer to talk now, to Duncan perhaps."

Irving chuckled. "Impetuousness is ever the province of youth I see."

Duncan smiled. "I will return to my quarters."

The elderly mage nodded. "Gaden, would you be so kind as to escort Duncan back to his room?"  
Gaden smiled. "It would be my honor."

Irving lead the two to the door. "Now, if you'll both excuse me, I have matters to discuss with Greagoir." He followed the two out, walking with them until the main staircase. Wordlessly he turned into the stairwell as Duncan and Gaden continued down the hall to the guest quarters.

Duncan stopped at the doorway to his temporary room and turned to Gaden. "Thank you for walking with me. I am glad for the company."

Gaden grinned. "I wanted to talk to you a little more." The ever-curious scholar brimmed with questions about the new war, the blight, the army gathering in the South.

Duncan chuckled and visibly relaxed. "Yes? What about?"

"First I just wanted to say how honored I am to meet you."

"I am flattered. I was not expecting quite so warm a reception."

"The Grey Wardens are great warriors for a noble cause." Gaden had read the history of the order, even their exile from the kingdom years ago.

Duncan stared intensely at him. "Being a Grey Warden is a calling. A sacrifice—a duty to battle darkspawn wherever they appear. We are elves, humans and dwarves untied by this common purpose."

While histories recorded the last Blight centuries ago, up in the tower they didn't hear much in the way of news besides the new manuscripts that arrived periodically or whatever rumors the templars or Chantry initiates brought in from the outside. "Have there been many darkspawn attacks recently?"  
Duncan nodded solemnlyggg. "A horde has formed within the Korcari Wilds in the South. If they are not stopped they will strike north into the valley. We Grey Wardens believe that an archdemon is leading the horde."

The mage frowned. Gaden knew about archdemons…from books anyway. Darkspawn attacked the surface in ragtag raiding bands on a rare occasion. Blights were only so called when an archdemon, a corrupted old god, rallied them—they became a veritable army.

"A horde of darkspawn…it would be dire news indeed . I fear this is what we will have to face."

"So the king is mustering an army to beat the threat?"

"Yes. Perhaps it will be enough….if we play our cards right." Duncan almost smiled.

Gaden didn't hesitate with his last question, though he knew it was controversial. "Why were Irving and Greagoir arguing about the war?" Duncan was reluctant, but Gaden persisted and the Grey Warden gave in.

" You know of the Chantry's view of magic, do you not? Any mages who join the king's army can unleash their full power on the darkspawn." He paused. "In fact, I'm counting on it. Greagoir may be afraid of what will happen. What if the mages decide they no longer want to be governed by the Chantry?"

Gaden nodded. The thought was something that had often crossed his mind; if the whole tower revolted, the devastation even among the mages could be devastating. "What are your opinions on the matter?" He was quite eager to hear an outsider's ideas on the matter.  
The Warden shrugged. "I believe we must defeat the darkspawn one way or another. My opinions end there."

Gaden bowed and left Duncan to his business. As he walked the halls, he again wished he could read people better. Perhaps he could have seen Duncan's true feelings. Oh well...

Suddenly, he heard Jowan's voice behind him and he turned around. "I'm glad I caught up to you. Are you done taking with Irving?" Gaden nodded and Jowan continued. "I need to talk to you. Do you remember what we discussed earlier?"

The mage walked into his new room and behind a curtain. "Of course I do." Quickly he changed into his new blue robe. "It hasn't been that long Jowan."

When he stepped out, changed, he saw Jowan glancing nervously around the mage's dormitories. "We should go somewhere else. I don't feel safe talking here."  
Gaden knit his eyebrows. "You're starting to worry me, Jowan." But he sighed and followed his friend. They walked a short ways down the hall, into the tower's chantry, stopping in a secluded corner. The area was not empty however, a woman in chantry robes sat praying. She stood as soon as they entered and smiled at Jowan, who immediately blushed. Gaden's eyebrows rose.

"We should be safe here." Jowan said quietly, standing next to the brown-haired woman.

Gaden slipped his staff into the hooks and loops on the back of his robe. "Okay, what's on going?"  
Again Jowan blushed. "A few months ago, I told you that I…met a girl. This is Lily."

"An initiate?" Gaden balked. "That's forbidden."

"So you can see why we wish to keep it a secret." Lily's voice was crisp and smooth like a songbird's.

"Lily's been given to the Chantry." Jowan continued, babbling on as he tended. "She is not allowed to have…relations with men. If anyone finds out…we'll both be in trouble."

"I won't tell," Gaden said quickly. "'love conquers all' right?"  
His friend sighed, visibly relieved. "Thank you, I knew you'd stand by me." He paused then started slowly. "There is something else. Remember I said that I didn't think they wanted to give me my Harrowing? I know why. They're…going to make me tranquil. They'll take everything that I am from me---my dreams, hopes, fears….my love for Lily all gone…

"why would they do this?" Gaden's eyes widened then quickly narrowed. "You're not too weak…."

The apprentice glanced at the ground. "There's… a rumor about me. People think I'm a blood mage. They think that making me a Circle mage will endanger everyone."

Gaden stared his friend down. "Have you done blood magic Jowan?"

"Of course not!" Jowan snapped, his eyes flashing. "But it's not safe here for me anymore. I need to escape. I need to destroy my phylactery so they can't track me down. We need your help. Lily and I can't do this on our own."

"Give us your word that you will help and we will tell you what we intend." Lily added, holding on to Jowan's arm.

Gaden spun the ring on his finger. "Can't you just explain to someone what's going on? I'm sure Irving will listen to you."

Jowan shook his head. "If we tell anyone, Lily will be punished. If you care about what happens to me, help us."

The dark-skinned mage turned from the couple. "I need to think this over."

Lily sighed. "I suppose that's fair." He heard her say. "But please, give us your answer soon. Time is running out."


	5. Chapter 5

Gaden sighed—it was a difficult place to be. If Jowan was truly using blood magic—and Gaden was unsure he believed his friend when he denied the fact—then he deserved to be Tranquil. But there was no way to be sure. As a mage he knew his duty, and that was to report to the First Enchanter. Perhaps Irving would be able to calm his fears about Jowan being a blood mage if nothing else. Slowly, to avoid suspicion, he walked to Irving's office.

Irving rose as Gaden entered his office. "I trust you saw Duncan back to his quarters?"

The darker man nodded. "Yes First Enchanter."

The old mage smiled. "I'm glad you met him. He's a most honorable man."

"I agree. It was my privilege to have met him."

"Grey Wardens are peerless warriors who sacrifice all for our sakes." he ran his hand slowly across his head, deep in thought. "We can learn much from them. Now, did you need something?"  
Gaden stopped as he spied the books on the First Enchanter's desk. He had read practically every book in the tower, and he recognized most of these titles. "Why do you have books on blood magic on your desk?"

Irving paused. "I've removed them from the library. I was…advised it might be unwise to leave them where any apprentice may read them. They will be put away somewhere very safe."

Gaden sighed—the books in the library had given Jowan a very easy way to learn blood magic, if nothing else…he had to ask. His body tensed as he spoke. "When is Jowan going through the Harrowing?"  
Irving raised an eyebrow. "When he is ready."

"He fears he is going to be made Tranquil."  
"And how does he know this? I suppose the young initiate he dallies about with revealed it to him." He stared steely at Gaden's shocked face. "You think I didn't know? I did not become first enchanter by keeping my eyes and ears shut." His voice was almost harsh.

Biting his lip, Gaden continued. "So it's true?"  
Irving nodded, his voice soft again. "I'm afraid it is. Greagoir says he has proof—and eyewitness testimony—that Jowan has been practicing blood magic. I cannot say more. Were it left to me, things might be different. But the Chantry…" He sighed. "I'm sorry child, This Rite of Tranquility will happen."

Gaden looked away. Jowan had lied to him—he _knew_ the consequences for blood magic--and the truth of the matter made Gaden's insides ache. There was only one 'right' thing to do now. "You must know that Jowan plans to escape the Circle….he plans to destroy his phylactery."

Irving put his hands behind his back and walked closer. "And I suppose his lady friend is involved? Yes, she must be helping him. She would know more about the repository than he would. Do you know anything else?"  
Gaden shook his head. "No, I came to see if you could confirm Jowan's dabbling in blood magic before I proceeded."

Irving sighed. "I suspected Lily would tell him of the impending Rite if she found out. But I never expected they would have the gall to break into the repository."

"What will you do with Jowan?"

"Reporting him to Greagoir and the templars will accomplish nothing beyond what's already planned. If the Circle must punish one of its own, I will see the Chantry done the same courtesy. Lily will not walk free while my apprentice suffers." Irving's face was dark, and there was a undertone to his voice Gaden didn't think possible from the calm, kind old man.

"Could you not just tell them she's involved?"

Irving shook his head. "If we mention her involvement, the Chantry will say she was framed. No, she must be caught in the act." Gaden sighed—it was true. It was unfair of the chantry to let Lily walk free. It was her information that led to the decision facing the three now. Irving continued. "Jowan will become Tranquil, but Lily must also face the consequences of her actions. How did you learn of their plan? Do they trust you?"  
Gaden pressed his eyelids together tightly. "Yes, they do."

"Good. Convince them you will risk all for their cause. I will be outside the repository with a contingent of templars. Let them see the mischief into which their initiate led our student."

Gaden walked back into the Chantry and pulled Jowan aside one last time. "I need to talk to you about one thing before I decide Jowan." He said softly, his deep voice rumbling in his chest.

His friend's eyes widened. "Really what?"

"The rumor about you being a blood mage isn't true? Do you swear?"

"Of course not!" Jowan growled, frowning. "I'd never use blood magic. I've been sneaking around to meet Lily in secret. Maybe others have seen me and assumed I must be doing something forbidden. I suppose we are, but…they think it's blood magic, and it isn't."

Gaden sighed—Jowan had sealed his fate. So be it. "Alright then, I'll help you." His stomach still knotted as he spoke.

Lily walked back to Jowan's side and smiled, holding her lover's arm. "Thank you. We will never forget this." Gaden cringed inside. "I can get us into the repository. But there's a problem. There are two locks on the phylactery chamber door. The first enchanter and knight-commander each hold one key. But it is just a door. There is power enough in their place to destroy all of Ferelden. What's a door to mages?"  
"What if it's a magical door?" Gaden mused.  
Jowan shook his head. "We have no choice. We cannot get our hands on both keys." He paused. "I once saw a rod of fire melt through a lock. You could get once from the stockroom—I'd do it, but Owain doesn't release such things to apprentices."  
Nodding, Gaden agreed. "I will go and retrieve a rod."

Lily looked up at Jowan, stars in her eyes. Gaden gripped his robes. "We should stay here." She said softly. "One mage at the stockroom will attract less attention than a mage, an apprentice and an initiate. Our prays go with you."

Gaden couldn't leave the room quick enough. The whole situation made him feel dirty, but what he was doing seemed the lesser of two evils. His heart beat quicker than when he had been fighting in the Fade as he hurried to the storeroom. Owain, the tranquil who managed the store room, was waiting there as always. Sometimes Gaden wondered if Owain ever slept. But that was silly, the man was tranquil; he may not have emotions, but he was still human.

For having no emotions, or perhaps because he had no emotions, Owain was very perceptive. "Welcome to the Circle's stockroom of magical items. How may I assist you?" He called out from the desk he sat behind as he saw Gaden approach.

Smiling, Gaden waved. "Hello Owain. I need a rod of fire."

The Tranquil went back to scribbling on the pages before him. "Rods of fire serve many purposes. Why do you wish to acquire this particular item?"

Biting his tongue, Gaden quickly replied. "I need to light a fire." He really hoped Owain didn't know he knew enough fire-element spells to incinerate the whole tower. And that Owain couldn't read people any better than he could...

Owain didn't look up from his work. "I will set down that you require the rod to deal with a personal matter. Here is the form—"Request for Rod of Fire." Have it signed and dated by a senior enchanter. I will release a rod to you once I have the signed form."

Gaden sighed as he took the form and walked away. Part of him hadn't wanted to get away with fooling Owain. But regardless, he needed to find a senior enchanter to sign his slip. Of course, he could always ask Irving; the more he was seen with Irving, however, the more he feared Jowan would find out the plan. So, he had to find someone else. There was always his mentor, but Niall would know him too well, and he always asked questions. As he wandered around the tower searching for senior enchanters, he stopped. The Circle's cavern storerooms may have a rod...true, the caverns usually held the raw magical materials and alchemical substances, but it couldn't hurt to check.

"Is there something you want?" A skinny elf woman with pale blonde hair stood before him. Her grey eyes pierced him. Gaden squirmed.

"I was wondering, are there rods of fire in the Circle's cavern storerooms?" He recognized her vaguely, Senior Enchanter Leorah.

She shook her head. "No, that's something the Tranquil deal in. This store-room is for raw magical materials and alchemical substances. Lyrium, basilisk blood and so on."

Gaden glanced around her at the door. "Can I look inside the cavern?"

"No. I can't let anyone in there just now." She quickly turned away from him, back to the books on the table before her.

"Why not? I am a full mage now."

Leorah sighed, not looking at him. "There are just…things…in there that I would prefer to keep safe."

He decided to take a shot in the dark. "Are you stealing from the Circle's stores?"  
Her eyes bugged as she snapped her head in his direction. "No! OF course not! I just have" she paused, again looking away. "I…I am in the midst of stock taking. Checking inventory and I…can't let anyone in there in case they…mess things up. Yes."

"So why are you out here and not in there?" Gaden furrowed his eyebrows.  
Gaden jumped as she slammed the book down. "Because I…am taking a break. I hate the musty smell of caves and I..." She stopped and took a deep breath. "Look, I'll tell you the truth, just keep it to yourself. There is an infestation of spiders in the caves. I don't know how they got in there but it's probably my fault."

Gaden breathed a sigh of relief inside. Perhaps the Maker was looking out for him...He knew Leorah had recently been promoted. The old senior enchanter who had run the storeroom died at a ripe old age of 98 just a month ago.

Leorah bit her lip as looked up at him. "I don't want anyone to find out…they'll think I'm incompetent!"

"Do you need any help?" Gaden attempted a sweet smile as he spoke.

"I could use some, I'm sure. I've been too busy with my new duties—I haven't been able to deal with the spiders. If you cleared them out for me I would owe you a favor. A big one."

Grinning, he held out the 'Request for Rod of Fire' form. "How about you sign this rod of fire request form when I get back?"

"I suppose that would be acceptable….here is the key." She took the form and then grabbed his shoulder. "Oh, and be careful in there. I'd really like to keep the damage done to the Circle's property to a minimum."

The look she gave him might have made some men grin, but Gaden simply brushed her hand away. Grimly he opened the door—careful meant no nuking the room with Blizzard or Thunderstorm—so this would take a few minutes more than he wanted. Luckily he had enough small area spells to get things done quickly. The passage was small, an oval loop with offshoots. There were about 9 spiders in total—he killed the last one with a relatively well placed Winter's Grasp—an ice spell. Finished he scampered back to Leorah.

The new senior enchanter saw him open the door and smiled. "You're back! Are the spiders gone?"

"Yep, all clean." Gaden nodded. "How about signing that rod of fire slip now?"

Shrugging, Leorah handed him the slip with a dark scribble at the bottom. "What would it hurt...there you go."

"Thanks." He bowed to his superior.

Leorah smiled. "It was a pleasure. You'll go far in the Circle, I bet."

Gaden moved away without responding and quickly walked back to Owain. The bald Tranquil's blue eyes stared at him. "Do you have the slip?" The dark-skinned mage nodded and handed the paper over. Owain thoroughly looked the small piece of paper. "Everything looks to be in order." He walked over to one of the locked cabinets in the back of the room and drew a thin, white rod. "Here is the rod you requested." Slowly, Gaden bowed and attempted to walk nonchalantly out the door and down to the Chantry. From the rate he was breathing, he assumed he was not accomplishing 'normal' behavior. Soon enough, however, he was at the Chantry, and he joined Jowan and Lily in their corner. He could hear Jowan muttering as he approached. Leaning in close to the two he said softly, "I have the rod."

Jowan's face lit up. "That was quick!"

Lily smiled beside him. "To the repository then, freedom awaits. The three walked slowly, making small talk down to the first floor where the apprentice dormitories and the basement door were. Stopping outside the heavy wooden door to the lower reaches of the tower, they waited until the area was clear and then bolted into the basement.

The repository was unnaturally cold--Gaden could see his breath mist before him. They walked the single passage for a while before coming onto a large wooden door, reinforced with many overlapping boards and large metal bolts. Besides the size, the was a small sparking of magic around the door that especially intimidated Gaden.

The lady initiate piped up beside him. "The Chantry calls this entrance 'The Victims' Door." It was built of two hundred and seventy-seven planks, one for each original templar. It is a reminder of all the dangers those cursed with magic pose." After Gaden raised a rather accusatory eyebrow at her she quickly continued. "Initiates must learn the Circle's history if they are to work with templars and mages. The door can be opened only by a templar and a mage, entering together. The Chantry provides the password, which primes the ward, and the mage touches it with mana, to release it." She paused. "Only a mage that has undergone their Harrowing may open the door."

Nodding Gaden stepped closer to the door. "I trust you have the password?"  
"Yes. I got it from a templar who recently accompanied a mage into the vault."

The mage glanced back at her. "And he wasn't suspicious of you?"  
"We have chatted on many occasions. I believe he trusts me." She shrugged and pressed her hand to the door. "First, the password. "Sword of the Maker, Tears of the Fade." A clicking noise echoed, followed by a small hissing noise. Lily lowered her hand and continued softly. "The password only primes the door. Now it must feel the touch of mana. Any spell will do, but hurry."

With a flick of his wrist, Gaden fired an arcane bolt-spirit energy-at the door. The bolt dissipated and the door slowly inched open. Directly in front of them now stood another large heavy door. The air was deadly still around the door as they approached, and Gaden quickly pulled the wand out of his bag. Pointing the rod at the large silver lock on the door he directed his power through it. Nothing happened.

Lily mewled beside him. "What's the matter? Why isn't it working?"

Gaden carefully placed his hand on the door. "I'm not sure..." He muttered looking the door over.

Jowan stared at his hands, then looked up at his love. "Lily…something's not right. I…can't cast spells here. Nothing works."

His friend hadn't missed his attempt at magic, and had attempted another arcane bolt himself. "I read about these markings…they're wards. Templars' work—they negate any magic cast within the area." He said finally, turning to face the other two.

Lily's face blackened. "I should have guessed! Why would Greagoir and Irving use simple keys for such a door? Because magical keys don't work!" She laid her hand against the door and her head against her arm. "How do you keep mages away from something? Make their powers completely worthless!" She growled and threw her hands. "That's it then. We're finished! We can't get in."

Gaden desperately wanted to turn back, to just leave Jowan and Lily to their fates, but he had sworn to Irving. "That door there," he pointed down the hall. "Where does it lead?"

Lily shrugged. "I don't know. Do you think it's another way in?"  
Jowan rested his hands on Lily's shoulders softly. "That door probably leads to another part of the repository. What are the chances of there being another entrance?" He glanced at his old friend.  
Gaden shrugged. "It's worth a try, right? Who knows…we might be able to _make_ another entrance if we get out of this null magic zone…."

The Chantry initiate and lone woman nodded. "We can't get into the chamber the way we planned but we're not about to give up. We can see where this door leads, but I don't think it'll be easy…it looks locked for one."

Gaden groaned. When this whole debacle was over, he was working on an 'open lock' spell. Crazy that no mage had discovered one yet. "The rod will work on _those_ locks, shouldn't it?"

She smiled slightly. "Yes. Let's hope they haven't warded that door as well."

Jowan nodded, heading towards the door. "Let's hurry, we've wasted enough time."

The very atmosphere seemed to change as they moved away from the warded door. Wand still in hand, Gaden aimed for the lock. Sure enough, the wand melted the metal lock easily. As the molten metal dripped to the floor, the door clicked open. Sighs escaped behind him, relieved as expected. What was not as expected was the clinking...as he turned around a suit of armor literally clamored over to them. If it had had a face, Gaden assumed it would have been enraged; it was obvious from the raised greatsword that it wasn't there to escort them around the place. Lily hung behind Jowan as the two mages began to face off against the armor. Almost instinctively Gaden threw Winter's Grasp onto the iron armor. The spell did not work as planned; instead of freezing as normal, the suit simply moved slower. Making sure Jowan and Lilly were out of the way, he launched a few fire element spells out of his inventory. The armor melted in a pile on the floor. The group made their way into the next room.

Every corridor and every room, more of those living armor creatures attacked-some of them even seemed to be spectral mages. Lily mumbled during the second attack about the 'unnaturalness' of it all, how the guardians were not of the Maker. Gaden simply saw them as another example of Chantry hypocrisy. Crates littered the halls and storage ways, and Gaden found himself wondering what mysteries were stored in the deep places of the Circle Tower. It seemed they had no time to investigate, as his two companions pushed him through the tunnels. The path stopped into a large room, filled to the roof with books, boxes and several statues. The three walked around the high-ceilinged room with wide eyes. Gaden found himself drawn to a beautiful statue of a woman in a back corner. The marble mage stood staff in hand, seeming to stare at them.

Jowan was the first to approach the statue. "There's something odd about that statue."

Gaden soon stood by him. "I wonder who this statue is."

"Greetings." The statue's seductive voice seemed to echo.

"Maker's breath!" The apprentice gasped. "Did it just say something?"

The spirit's voice was disturbingly constant. "I am the essence and spirit of Eleni Zinovia, once consort and advisor to Archon Valerius. Prophecy my crime, cursed to stone for foretelling the fall of my lord's house."

"Archon Valerius?" Gaden knew the archons were the lords of the Imperium—mostly overthrown when Andraste founded the Chantry.

"Forever shall you stand on the threshold of my proud fortress," He said, "and tell your lies to all who pass…" But my lord found death at the hands of his enemies and his once-proud fortress crumbled to dust, as I foretold."

Lily trembled behind Jowan. "A Tevinter statue! Don't listen to it! The Tevinter lords dabbled in many forbidden arts! This is a wicked thing!"

"How did a Tevinter statue get here?" Gaden asked. "Why was it not destroyed?"

"It must have been here for years." Jowan shrugged and wrapped his arms around his love. "Look at the dust. I feel a little sorry for it…her." He added quickly.

"Weep not for me, child." The statue continued. "Stone they made me, and stone I am, eternal and unfeeling. And I shall endure 'til the Maker returns to light their fires again."

Gaden shuddered. The statue seemed like a crueler version of the Tranquil. Disturbing. "What does that mean?"

Beside him Jowan turned away with a scoff. "Ambiguous rubbish. It could mean anything. I can do it too: The sun grows dark, but lo! Here comes the dawn!"

Creeping from behind Jowan, Lily placed her hands on Gaden's arm. "Stop talking to it." She mewled. "Please, both of you."

Yes, we have much to do." he rolled his eyes and threw Lily's arm off.

Near the statue was another statue, this time of a sitting wolfhound, perhaps an ancestor of the mabari. The statue was decayed, but Gaden recognized it as an amplification device, used by the Tevinter Empire to amplify their magic. Against the adjacent walls were bookshelves, all old, but one seemed to stand out. Jowan walked over to the wall, placing his hand to his chin. "I think the phylactery chamber is on the other side of the wall behind this bookcase."

Gaden peered behind the bookcase. "The wall looks weak in spots here."

"We should be able to find something that can knock some of the bricks loose."

The new mage already had a plan. "You'll have to help me with the bookcase then." Jowan nodded and the two mages lifted the crumbling shelf off to the side. Gaden rotated the amplification statue to face the exposed wall and channeled a fire ball through the statue.

The wall exploded.

A short flight of steps led from the archive to the phylactery chamber; to the left they could see the warded door. No sooner had their feet hit the chamber floor than three more living statues attacked them. Sticking with the established strategy, Gaden used his fire spells. The enchanted suits were getting too close, and he began using earth spells as well, petrifying the largest one. After another wave of fire, the two smaller suits were melted, and with a jab of his staff, he shattered the last. To the right was a stair up, where multiple cabinets filled with red glass phylacteries sat. Waving Jowan and Lily up, the three ascended the stairs. Suddenly Jowan pointed to a simple container on a far shelf. "That's my phylactery!" He cried, running towards it. "You found it!" Smiling the apprentice grasped the container. "I can't believe this tiny vial stands between me and freedom." He muttered, staring. "So fragile, so easy just to be rid of its hold over me...and I'm free." The vial seemed to slip through his fingers, shattering on the floor. The blood seeped into the cracks on the floor and slowly disappeared. Gaden found himself shuddering as Jowan added. "Let's get out of here."

Even though their trial was over, guilt gnawed at Gaden's heart. Jowan and Lily were going to face an opponent even worse than tranquility. And he would be the one to set them to their fate. His only friend...the worst betrayal. Perhaps those who truly followed goodness always had to sacrifice....Gaden prayed this would be the only time.

Sure enough, as they opened the door from the basement repository, Irving, Greagoir and a small contingent of templars were waiting. "An initiate, conspiring with a blood mage. I'm disappointed Lily." Greagoir muttered as he stepped forward. "She seems shocked but fully in control of her own mind. Not the thrall of a blood mage...You were right Irving. The initiate has betrayed us. This will not go unpunished." His gaze turned almost immediately to Gaden. "And here's your lackey, who so efficiently delivered these miscreants into our hands. Your plan worked after all."

Jowan face flushed with shock. "You! Gaden, Lily and I trusted you!" His voice shook with rage as he screamed at his friend. "How could you betray us like this?!" Gaden jumped away, backing towards Irving as the templars stepped forward.

Lily drew closer to Jowan. "We're trapped…"

"Enough." Greagoir commanded. "As knight-commander of this Circle, I sentence this blood mage to death. This initiate has scorned the Chantry and her vows. Take her to Aeonar."

"The...The mage's prison...no, not there...please..." Lily stuttered clinging to Jowan as the templars drew closer around them.

"No! I won't let you touch her!" Jowan screamed, pushing Lily behind him. Without a moment's hesitation, he plunged a dagger into his hand. As the blood splattered himself and all around him, a wave of red magic knocked everyone but Lily to the floor. Lily gasped and turned to her lover, backing up slowly.

"By the Maker, blood magic..." she muttered at first then wailed. "How...how could you! You said you never...."

Jowan turned to her, hand bleeding, pleading. "I admit...I dabbled. I thought it would make me a better mage..."

Lily stopped, aghast. "Blood magic is evil Jowan. It corrupts people, changes them..."

"I'm going to give it up. Give up all magic...I just want to be with you Lily. Please, come with me."

"I trusted you. I was ready to sacrifice everything for you." Lily paused, tears running down her face. "I...I don't know you blood mage, Get away from me!" Jowan ran down the hall, and soon those knocked out by the spell were stumbling to their feet.

Gaden ran to the First Enchanter's side, and soon the old man began to wake. Gaden helped him to his feet as Irving spoke. "Are you all right? Where's Greagoir?"

The Knight-Commander was quickly at the First Enchanter's side, though he limped slightly. "I knew it…blood magic. But to overcome so many…I never thought him capable of such power."

Gaden bit his lip, staring the way Jowan had run out. "He was lying after all." He knew he had done the right thing...but his blood still felt like poison.

Iriving leaned on Gaden, quickly directing the mage to place healing spells on himself and the templars. "None of us expected this." He said aloud. "Are you all right Greagoir?  
Greagoir scoffed. "As good as can be expected given the circumstances! If you had let me act sooner, this would not have happened!"

"He can't have gone far." Gaden muttered, glancing towards the tower's exit. "You could still capture him."

The templar glanced narrowly at him. "Believe me, we will use our every resource. Where is the girl?"  
"I…I am here, ser." Lily squeaked from the corner.

"You helped a blood mage!" Greagoir growled. "Look at all he's hurt!"

"Knight-Commander…I …I was wrong." Lily stuttered, and Gaden did not try to defend her. "I was accomplice to a…blood mage. I will...accept whatever punishment you see fit. Even...even Aeonar."

"Get her out of my sight." Templars quickly drug Lily away as the Kinght-Commander turned to Gaden with a sour look. "And you. You were in a repository full of magics that are locked away for a reason."

Irving laid a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Did you take anything important from the repository?"

Gaden shook his head; Greagoir snorted. "Hmph. Some honesty at last. But your antics have made a mockery of this Circle! Ah…what are we to do with you?"

The new mage bowed his head. "Nothing _ser_; I was just doing as I was told." It seemed so much like Greagoir to let his temper get the better of him; now more than ever he wished the Circle governed itself.

The First Enchanter nodded. "As I said, he was working under my orders."

"And this improves the situation? The phylactery chamber is forbidden to all save you and me!"  
"I had my reasons." Irving replied with a shrug.

"You're not all knowing Irving!" The Knight-Commander drew face to face with his old adversary. "You don't know how much influence the blood mage might have had. How are we to deal with this?!"

Suddenly a new voice joined the argument, and Gaden turned to see Duncan. The Grey Warden smiled as the three turned to him. Indeed the Maker was smiling on the Wardens... "Knight-commander, if I may…I am not only looking for mages to join the king's army." He said softly. "I am also recruiting for the Grey Wardens. Irving spoke highly of this mage, and I would like him to join the Warden ranks."

Greagoir's face reached an unprecedented flushed level. "What? You've promised him a new Grey Warden?"

"Gaden has served the Circle well." Irving replied, evading the question. "He would make an excellent Grey Warden."

Duncan nodded, and stood next to Gaden, smiling slightly at the young man. "We look for dedication in our recruits. Fighting the darkspawn requires such dedication, often at the expense of all else." At the expense of friends and lovers, he thought sadly.

"I object!" Greagoir cried, stepping closer to Duncan. "You say he operated under your instructions, Irving, but I do not trust him. I must investigate this issue, and I will _not_ release this mage to the Grey Warden."

Gaden turned to Irving. As much as becoming a Grey Warden was an honor, he could do so much more to benefit mages here. "But I am a mage, my place is here." He said softly.

Irving placed his hand on the young student. "This tower is not the place for you. You have...a truly rare gift that must not be squandered." Leaning in, he whispered. "Your time is just beginning. The Grey Wardens offer a chance for something more. Take it."

Duncan had turned his full attention to the stubborn Knight-Commander. "Greagoir, mages are needed. _This_ mage is needed. Worse things plague this world than blood-mages—you know that. I take this young mage under my wing and bear all responsibility for his actions." He held out his hand to seal the vow.

Greagoir muttered darkly, staring at Duncan's hand. "This mage does not deserve a place in the Order."

"Why? Do we not reward service? This mage has served the Circle well." Irving turned back to Gaden. "You have an opportunity few even dream of. Do not squander it."

Gaden bowed. "You honor me...But am I to leave the tower forever?"

Irving sighed. "The tower never forgets it's apprentices, but the Grey Wardens shall be your family now. You are luckier than you know, child."

With a nod, Gaden took a place at Duncan's side as the Grey Warden shook hands with a reluctant Greagoir. "Thank you for everything, First Enchanter."

D: Come, your new life awaits.

Duncan and Gaden silently exited the tower and made the journey across the lake to the docks. As they made their way down through the whispers of the other mages and eerie slit-eyed stares of the templars, Gaden knew there would always be plus to living with the Wardens. No templars. The Wardens and the other recruits were waiting, lounging near the Spoiled Princess Bar, having spent the night in tents outside the tavern. The sun was high in the sky, but on its way down as the two joined with their fellows. Duncan kept Gaden by his side. "We were unable to get any more mages for the battle at Ostagar, but we did gain a new recruit. Everyone, this is Gaden," The group bowed, and Duncan pulled the full Grey Wardens aside. While the Wardens talked, Sereda started the introductions. "I'm Sereda," She pointed to her fellow dwarf. "And this is Wylan." They began to tell their stories, and Gaden had just finished his as Duncan came back to the group alone. "They are going to scout the area around the Becilian forest." Duncan started. "We doubt the darkspawn have surfaced anywhere besides the Kocari Wilds, but we need to make sure. Meanwhile, we are heading to Highever. One of the arl's there is hosting a tourney--similar to your dwarven Provings--to help me find a recruit. Also, I have heard of a few recruits at the Teryn's castle. But we will talk more later, we have much ground to cover--Highever is to the north-east of here.


End file.
